Rejoice! the year up­on its way
Has brought again that bless­èd day,
When on the chos­en of the Lord
The Ho­ly Spi­rit was out­poured.

On each the fire, des­cend­ing, stood
In qui­ver­ing tongues’ si­mi­li­tude—
Tongues, that their words might rea­dy prove,
And fire, to make them flame with love.

To all in ev­ery tongue they spoke;
Amazement in the crowd awoke,
Who mocked, as ov­er­come with wine,
Those who were filled with pow­er di­vine.

These things were done in type that day,
When Eas­ter­tide had passed away,
The num­ber told which once set free
The cap­tive at the ju­bi­lee.

And now, O ho­ly God, this day
Regard us as we hum­bly pray,
And send us, from Thy hea­ven­ly seat,
The bless­ings of the Pa­ra­clete.

To God the Fa­ther, God, the Son,
And God the Spi­rit, praise be done;
May Christ the Lord up­on us pour
The Spi­rit’s gift for­ev­er­more.