1 Come, Spirit blest, Creator, come
from our bright heavenly throne,
come, take possession of our souls
and make them all your own.

2 For you are called the Paraclete,
best gift of God above,
the living spring, the living fire,
sweet ointment and true love.

3 And you are seven-fold in your grace,
finger of God's right hand,
his promise rightly teaching us
to speak and understand.

4 Guide our dark minds with your blest light,
with love our hearts inflame,
and with your strength which never fails,
confirm our mortal frame.

5 Far from us drive our deadly foe;
true peace unto us bring;
and through all perils lead us safe
beneath your sacred wing.

6 Through you may we the Father know,
through you the eternal Son,
and you the Spirit of them both,
Thrice-blessèd Three in One.

7 All glory to the Father be,
with his co-equal Son:
glory to you, great Paraclete,
while endless ages run.