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I io The Book of Praise.
Dear Lord, and shall we ever lie
At this poor dying rate ? Our love so faint, so cold to Thee,
And Thine to us so great!
Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all Thy quickening powers !
Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love, And that shall kindle ours.
Isaac Watts 1709.
XCVIII.
Come, Holy Spirit, come Let Thy bright beams arise, Dispel the darkness from our minds, And open all our eyes.
Cheer our desponding hearts, Thou heavenly Paraclete ; Give us to lie, with humble hope At our Redeemer's feet.
Revive our drooping faith, Our doubts and fears remove; And kindle in our breasts the flame Of never-dying love.
Convince us of our sin, Then lead to Jesus' blood, And to our wondering view reveal The secret love of God.
Show us that loving Man That rules the courts of bliss, The Lord of hosts, the Mighty God, The Eternal Prince of Peace. |
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