Spirit of God, descend upon
my heart;
Wean it from earth; through
all its pulses move;
Stoop to my weakness, mighty
as Thou art;
And make me love Thee as I
ought to love.
I ask no
dream, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the
veil of clay,
No angel visitant, no
opening skies;
But take the dimness of my
soul away.
Teach me to feel that
Thou art always nigh;
Teach me the struggles of
the soul to bear.
To check the rising doubt,
the rebel sigh,
Teach me the patience of
unanswered prayer.
Hast Thou not bid me love
Thee, God and King?
All, all Thine own, soul,
heart and strength and mind.
I see Thy cross; there teach
my heart to cling:
O let me seek Thee, and O
let me find!
Teach me to love Thee as
Thine angels love,
One holy passion filling all
my frame;
The kindling of the heaven
descended Dove,
My heart an altar, and Thy
love the flame.
