1 Come down, O Love divine,
seek thou this soul of mine,
and visit it with thine own ardor glowing;
O Comforter, draw near,
within my heart appear,
and kindle it, thy holy flame bestowing.
2 Oh let it freely burn,
till worldly passions turn
to dust and ashes in its heat consuming;
and let thy glorious light
shine ever on my sight,
and clothe me round, the while my path illuming.
3 Let holy charity
mine outward vesture be,
and lowliness become mine inner clothing--
true lowliness of heart,
which takes the humbler part,
and o'er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing.
4 And so the yearning strong,
with which the soul will long,
shall far outpass the power of human telling;
no soul can guess Love's grace
till it become the place
wherein the Holy Spirit makes a dwelling.