Veni, Creator Spiritus

By John Henry Dryden

Creator Spirit, by whose aid

    The world's foundations first were laid,

    Come, visit ev'ry pious mind;

    Come, pour thy joys on human kind;

    From sin, and sorrow set us free;

    And make thy temples worthy Thee.

      O, Source of uncreated Light,

    The Father's promis'd Paraclete!

    Thrice Holy Fount, thrice Holy Fire,

  Our hearts with heav'nly love inspire;

  Come, and thy Sacred Unction bring

  To sanctify us, while we sing!

      Plenteous of grace, descend from high,

  Rich in thy sev'n-fold energy!

  Thou strength of his Almighty Hand,

  Whose pow'r does heav'n and earth command:

  Proceeding Spirit, our Defence,

  Who do'st the gift of tongues dispence,

  And crown'st thy gift with eloquence!

      Refine and purge our earthly parts;

  But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!

  Our frailties help, our vice control;

  Submit the senses to the soul;

  And when rebellious they are grown,

  Then, lay thy hand, and hold 'em down.

      Chase from our minds th' Infernal Foe;

  And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;

  And, lest our feet should step astray,

  Protect, and guide us in the way.

      Make us Eternal Truths receive,

  And practise, all that we believe:

  Give us thy self, that we may see

  The Father and the Son, by thee.

      Immortal honour, endless fame,

  Attend th' Almighty Father's name:

  The Saviour Son be glorified,

  Who for lost Man's redemption died:

  And equal adoration be,

  Eternal Paraclete, to thee.

At­trib­ut­ed var­i­ous­ly to Char­le­magne, Am­brose of Milan, Gre­go­ry I, and Rha­ban­us Maur­us (Ve­ni Cre­at­or Spir­it­us, Men­tes tu­or­um vi­si­ta); trans­lat­ed from Latin to Eng­lish by Dry­den, Mis­c. Po­ems, 1693.