Monday in Whitsun-Week.
| 1 |
Once the dews of night have shed drops upon earth’s fertile bed, since the Pentecostal Light, with its fiery glory bright, fell on those whose glad accord hailed the promise of their Lord. |
| 2 |
Day of joy, of high regard! In our souls Thy fragrance guard. Thoughts of Thee, O Paraclete! Highest meditations sweet: like the oil on Aaron poured, choice perfume in us now stored. |
| 3 |
With quick life our souls surround; plead in us by sacred sound; evermore may we rejoice in that still sweet inward voice, calling us to God by sign, base things wearing hue divine. |
| 4 |
Gilding duties with Thy light, like fine clouds at sunset bright; earthly burdens lose their weight; mourners dwell not desolate; sinners coming radiance own, light divine from Jesus’ throne! |
| 5 |
Risen Savior! Great Thy love, sending Help from up above, living, reigning glorious, o’er all foes victorious, gracious promisekeeping Lord, Father, Son, Ghost all adored! |
Information
| Text | attr. Eliza Humphreys ad. A. Coles |
| Tune | Ratisbon melody from Geystliche gesangk Buchleyn, 1524; adapt. att. harm. William Henry Havergal (1793-1870) |
God, who as at this time didst teach the hearts of thy faithful people, by the sending to them the light of thy Holy Spirit; grant us by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to rejoice in his holy comfort; through the merits of Christ Jesus our Savior, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the same Spirit, one God, world without end. Amen.