1 Come down, O Love divine, seek thou this soul of mine,
and visit it with thine own ardor glowing.
O Comforter, draw near; within my heart appear,
and kindle it, thy holy flame bestowing.

2 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.

3 Let holy charity mine outward vesture be,
and loneliness become mine inner clothing—
true lowliness of heart, which takes the humbler part,
and o'er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing.

4 And so the yearning strong, with which the soul will long,
shall far outpass the power of human telling;
no soul can guess its grace till it become the place
wherein the Holy Spirit makes his dwelling.