COME, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all Thy quickening powers, Kindle a flame of sacred love In these cold hearts of ours.
See how we grovel here below Fond of such trifling toys! How slow our hearts to turn and go To seek eternal joys.
In vain we tune our formal songs, In vain we strive to rise; Our praise is weak upon our tongues, And our devotion dies.
Dear Lord, and shall we always lie In such a languid state? 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, 1674-1748