If Thou dost love us, leave us not;
But send down from that pure calm spot,
Pledge of adopting love,

That fostering Dove.

Thou who shalt come our Judge to be,

Jesu, the glory be to Thee,

With God and Spirit pure

Aye to endure!

ON WHITSUN-EVE.

AT MIDNIGHT.

Like as the hart desireth the water-brooks; so longeth my soul after Thee, O God.-PSALM xlii.

"O Christe qui noster poli."

O THOU, gone up, our harbinger,
To Heav'n's dread palaces,
Look on us lying helpless here,

And lift us to the skies.

May holy love the stair supply
To those pure joys divine,
Which, undiscern'd by nature's eye,
In Faith's true mirror shine.

Where God doth His tried children own,

And gives Him to the blest,

He, all in all, their toils doth crown,

And is Himself their rest.

Thy grace alone to Thee can lead,
And place us near Thy throne,
Do Thou, to help us in our need,
Send down Thy Holy One.

Praise Him who sits at God's right-hand,
Praise Father, as most meet,

And to all time, in every land,
Praise the dread Paraclete!

AT THE MATTINS.

Thy counsel, O Lord, who hath known, except Thou give wisdom and send Thy Holy Spirit from above? for so the ways of them which lived on the earth were reformed, and men were taught the things that are pleasing unto Thee.-WISDOM IX.

"Supreme Rector cœlitum."

DREAD King, to whom the angelic hosts do cry,
Who tramplest death 'neath Thy victorious feet,
And opest a path unto the glorious sky,
Mark'd by Thy blood! From the eternal seat,
Where Thou, with the life-giving Paraclete,
Sit'st by Thy Father's side, look on us now,
Nor leave us comfortless: let our wants meet
Thy pitying eyes! Thy covenanted bow

Is left upon Thy path, and marks the clouds below.

Thou didst give birth to us with piercing throes,
And direst travail pains, while the dark tide
Of woes o'erwhelm'd Thee, and brought death's
repose;

Then the rude lance open'd Thy bleeding side,
And thence was taken Thine own spotless Bride,
The Mother of us all. From Thy calm shore
Send forth Thy Spirit of Truth, who shall abide :
Wash'd in Thy blood, the Church shall Him

adore,

And Thee and Father blest worship for evermore.

ON WHIT-SUNDAY.

AT THE FIRST VESPERS.

I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.-JOEL ii.

"Veni, superne Spiritus."

COME, Spirit from above!

Earth, wash'd with blood of Him that died,

With eyes of awe and love,
Awaits Thee, calm and purified.

Come, in the holy Name

Of Him, who hath gone up on high :

With Thy Baptism of flame
Cleanse Thou our hearts, and sanctify.

A Father, gone from sight,
We mourn; pity our orphanhood,
And with Thy gentle might

Heal us, and help us to be good.