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71

tr., John Brownlie

7,7,7,3

72

I

Like the beams that from the sun,

Pierce the blackness of the night,

Come to us, O Promised One,

Spirit, Light.

II

Pure as saints who have attained,

Clad in brightness for attire,

Cleanse our souls by vileness stained,

Spirit, Fire.

III

Stronger than uplifted arm

In the tumult of the fight,

Save our timid souls from harm,

Spirit, Might.

IV

Soothing as the calm that falls

When the winds and billows cease,

Comfort us when fear appals,

Spirit, Peace.

V

Come, O Gracious Spirit, come,

We would have Thee for our Guest,

Make our souls Thy chosen home,

Spirit, Blest.

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