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

You who are called the Paraclete,
best gift of God above,
the living spring, the vital fire,
sweet christ'ning and true love.

You who are sev'nfold in your grace,
finger of God's right hand;
his promise, teaching little ones
to speak and understand.

O guide our minds with your blest light,
with love our hearts inflame;
and with your strength, which ne'er decays,
confirm our mortal frame.

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

Through you may we the Father know,
through you th'eternal Son,
and you the Spirit of them both,
thrice-blessed Three in One.

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