Come, Father of the poor! Come, Source of all our store! Come, within our bosoms shine!
You, of comforters the best;
You, the soul's most welcome guest;
sweet refreshment here below;
in our labour, rest most sweet;
grateful coolness in the heat;
solace in the midst of woe.
O most blessed Light divine,
shine within these hearts of thine,
and our inmost being fill!
Where thou art not, man hath nought,
nothing good in deed or thought,
nothing free from taint of ill.
Heal our wounds, our strength renew;
on our dryness pour your dew;
wash the stains of guilt away;
bend the stubborn heart and will;
melt the frozen, warm the chill;
guide the steps that go astray.
On the faithful, who adore
and confess thee, evermore
in thy sevenfold gift descend;
give them virtue's sure reward
give them thy salvation, Lord;
give them joys that never end.