WHIT SUNDAY
Fountain of Sweets! Eternal Dove!
Which leav'st Thy glorious perch above,
And hovering down, vouchsafest thus
To make Thy nest below with Us.
Soft as Thy softest feathers, may
We find Thy Love to us to-day;
And in the shelter of Thy wing
Obtain Thy leave and grace to sing.
workSection