Come down, O Love divine,

Seek thou this soul of mine,

And visit it with thine own

Ardour glowing;

O comforter, draw near,

Within my heart appear,

And kindle it, thy holy

Flame bestowing.

O let it freely burn,

Till earthly 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.

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.

And so the yearning strong,

With which the soul will long,

Shall far outpass the power of

Human telling;

For none can guess its grace,

Till he become the place

Wherein the Holy Spirit

Makes his dwelling.