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tr., John Brownlie

8,8,8,8

77

I

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.

II

We hear the promise Thou did’st make

To lone disciples long ago,

And peace and hope our souls o’ertake,

And joy dispels our brooding woe.

III

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.

IV

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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