Come down, O love divine, seek Thou this soul of mine,
And visit it with Thine own ardor glowing.
O Comforter, draw near, within my heart appear,
And kindle it, Thy holy flame bestowing.
O let it freely burn, til earthly passions turn
To dust and ashes in its heart consuming;
And let Thy glorious light shine ever on my sight,
And clothe me round, the while my path illuming.
And so the yearning strong, with which the soul will long,
Shall far outpass the power of human telling;
For none can guess its grace, till love create a place
Wherein the Holy Spirit makes a dwelling.
Words: Bianco da Siena (15thC) tr Richard Frederick Littledale (19thC)