 | Wood-notes and Church-bells |  |
A WHITSUNTIDE HYMN.
O God, the Holy Spirit,
If but of Thee possest;
I shall, through Christ, inherit
The Kingdom of the blest:
If, by Thine influence o'er me,
I am but “born again,”
An heir of grace and glory,
I shall with Jesus reign.
If but of Thee possest;
I shall, through Christ, inherit
The Kingdom of the blest:
If, by Thine influence o'er me,
I am but “born again,”
An heir of grace and glory,
I shall with Jesus reign.
Thou art the Wind that bloweth;
With rustling of the bough
It cometh and it goeth
We know not whence or how:
Yet one short prayer will stay Thee,
Mysterious, heavenly Breath;
To feel Thee and obey Thee,
Oh, this is life from death!
With rustling of the bough
It cometh and it goeth
We know not whence or how:
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Mysterious, heavenly Breath;
To feel Thee and obey Thee,
Oh, this is life from death!
Thou art the Rain that falleth
Upon the rocky ground;
The thirsty desert calleth,
And timely dews abound:
Hear me, O Lord, addressing
Petitions to Thy throne;
Oh, send down “showers of blessing”—
Soften this heart of stone.
Upon the rocky ground;
The thirsty desert calleth,
And timely dews abound:
Hear me, O Lord, addressing
Petitions to Thy throne;
Oh, send down “showers of blessing”—
Soften this heart of stone.
Thou art the Dove that glideth
Gently from heaven above;
Wherever it abideth,
Dwell peace and joy and love:
One earnest prayer will lure Thee—
Soft wing and tender voice;
Oh, let me now secure Thee,
Now make my heart rejoice.
Gently from heaven above;
Wherever it abideth,
Dwell peace and joy and love:
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Soft wing and tender voice;
Oh, let me now secure Thee,
Now make my heart rejoice.
Thou art the Fire that burneth
With bright and steady flame;
Upwards to heaven it turneth,
Telling from whence it came:
Oh, may the holy fire
My sinful thoughts refine,
Still burning clearer, higher,
Till my whole heart be Thine.
With bright and steady flame;
Upwards to heaven it turneth,
Telling from whence it came:
Oh, may the holy fire
My sinful thoughts refine,
Still burning clearer, higher,
Till my whole heart be Thine.
Thou art the Well that springeth
From fountains out of sight;
With murmur sweet it singeth,
Uprising day and night:
Oh, may the living fountain
Make melody in me,
Till on God's “holy mountain”
Its sacred source I see.
From fountains out of sight;
With murmur sweet it singeth,
Uprising day and night:
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Make melody in me,
Till on God's “holy mountain”
Its sacred source I see.
Come, waft me to that glory,
Blest Wind, most holy Dove;
Come, shed Thine influence o'er me,
Fountain and Fire of love;
O God, the Holy Spirit,
Come, dwell within my breast,
Till I, through Christ, inherit
The Kingdom of the blest!
Blest Wind, most holy Dove;
Come, shed Thine influence o'er me,
Fountain and Fire of love;
O God, the Holy Spirit,
Come, dwell within my breast,
Till I, through Christ, inherit
The Kingdom of the blest!
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