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106

John Brownlie

8,8,8,8

Lord, may Thy Holy Spirit calm

Our troubled souls, and give them rest;

And with His touch, like healing balm,

Allay the pain of the distressed.

We hear the promise Thou didst make

To lone disciples long ago;

And peace and hope our souls o'ertake,

And joy dispels our brooding woe.

Now let us feel the Spirit's power,

And let us hear His gracious word;

Fulfil to us this holy hour,

The promise of our dying Lord.

107

Come, Holy Ghost, with warmth of love,

With light of hope, and calm of peace,

And raise our sense-bound souls above

The mocking joys of earth that cease.

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