Joy! because the circ­ling year
Brings our day of bless­ings here;
Day when first the light di­vine
On the Church be­gan to shine.

Like to qui­ver­ing tongues of flame
Unto each the Spir­it came,
Tongues, that earth might hear their call,
Fire, that love might burn in all.

So the won­drous works of God
Wondrously were spread abroad;
Every tribe’s familiar tone
Made the glo­ri­ous mar­vel known.

Hardened scoff­ers vain­ly jeered;
Listening stran­gers heard and feared,
Knew the pro­phets’ word ful­filled,
Owned the work which God had willed.

Still Thy Spir­it’s full­ness, Lord,
On Thy wait­ing Church be poured;
Grant our bur­dened hearts re­lease;
Grant us Thine abid­ing peace.