John Brownlie (trans.) · 63 of 130

II: Like the beams that from the sun

Like the beams that from the sun Pierce the blackness of the night, Come to us, O Promised One, Spirit, Light.

Pure as saints that have attained, Clad in brightness for attire, Cleanse our souls by vileness stained, Spirit, Fire.

Stronger than uplifted arm In the tumult of the fight, Shield our timid souls from harm, Spirit, Might.

Soothing as the calm that falls When the winds and billows cease, Comfort us when fear appals, Spirit, Peace.

Come, O Gracious Spirit, come, We would have Thee for our guest; Make our souls Thy chosen home, Spirit, Blest.