Spirit of God, that moved of old
Upon the wa­ters’ dark­ened face,
Come, when our faith­less hearts are cold,
And stir them with an in­ward grace.

Thou that art pow­er and peace com­bined,
All high­est strength, all pur­est love,
The rush­ing of the migh­ty wind,
The brood­ing of the gen­tle dove.

Come, give us still Thy pow­er­ful aid,
And urge us on, and make us Thine;
Nor leave the hearts that once were made
Fit tem­ples for Thy grace di­vine.

Nor let us quench Thy sev’n­fold light;
But still with soft­est breath­ings stir
Our way­ward souls, and lead us right,
O Holy Ghost, the Com­fort­er.