XLVII A HYMN TO THE HOLY SPIRIT
Reading edition
O SMILE upon the mirror of the world, O Bearer of the censer whence is curled The fragrant breath of watered trees at eve, And fires that slowly in the sunrise weave.
Thou art the Why within the universe, Thou fillest hidden caves which seas immerse, Thou sowest flowers upon the snow-bound hills, And teachest music to the listening rills.
Thou art the Guide of man’s supreme ascent From sullen shapes that through the forest bent, To minds that sift the sovran right from wrong And forms more perfect than a polished song.
The lily sceptre of sweet virgin love Is thine; the rosy coronet above The bridal brow is thine; from Thee the might Of infant eyes, like stars that calm the night.
Thou art the Spirit of insurgent truth, Thou givest buried lore a second youth, Thou makest charity with wisdom grow, And provest falsehood but a losing throw.
Thou calledst Moses from the wealthy Nile And all the idols of fair Philae’s isle, To march for life beneath the desert sun And teach a rabble that their God was one.
And Thou didst barb the tongue of Socrates To sting a city settled on the lees, To lash the vice of fluent sophistry And crucify the shifting inward lie.
Thou plantedst pity in the Indian sage, Who conned the verses penned on sorrow’s page, And strove to cut by mental abstinence The silken cord that threads the beads of sense
But could not in himself his pity slake, And watching lotos blooms upon a lake, Which helpless sank or rose with every wave, Resolved all sinking souls to lift and save.
And Thou within a cloud of maiden white Didst form that sun of radiating light, Christ’s strong immaculate humanity, Transparent monstrance of His Deity.
He, sinless, trod the brink of sin’s abyss And for His love received a traitor’s kiss; Then driven by thy soft compelling breath He, who was Life, resigned himself to death.
He showed us that this fleshly house of sense Is not a nomad tent or barrier fence, But some fair chancel where thy vivid flame Might find an altar and reveal His name.
Come, Holy Ghost, and breathe from sea to sea, Give each his special fruit of liberty; Tear from deceit the scintillating robe, From Satan’s hands hurl down the rod and globe.
Break Thou the spirit of the lords of lust, Whose passions scatter an infected dust; Reduce the men for whom the poor have bled, Who elevate their gold as God and Bread.
Grant me a mind that may become thy lyre, A hate of hatred and a tongue of fire; And mid the clamour of all transient things Let me not miss the passage of thy wings.