Spirit of God, descend upon my heart,
Wean it from earth, through all its pulses move;
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as Thou art,
And make me love Thee as I ought to love.
I ask no dream, no prophet-ecstasies;
No sudden rending of the veil of clay;
No angel-visitant, no opening skies;
But take the dimness of my soul away.
Hast Thou not bid us love Thee, God and King?
All, all Thine own, soul, heart and strength and mind;
I see the cross--there teach my heart to cling;
O let me seek Thee, and O let me find.
Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh;
Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear,
To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh;
Teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.
Teach me to love Thee as Thine angels love,
One holy passion filling all my frame:
The baptism of the heaven-descended Dove,
My heart an altar, and Thy love the flame.
This is one of those hymns I never heard a word about back in my Pentecostal days. Too bad, seeing as it's a fine text.