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W. Garrett Horder, comp. The Poets’ Bible: New Testament. 1895.


From the Parisian Breviary

Translated by Isaac Williams

NOW our prayers are heard on high,

And ’mid mortal men unblest,

The good Comforter is nigh,

Coming from the Father’s breast.

WHAT mysterious sight and sound,

Of our God the coming speaks!

Like a rushing wind profound,

All the house His presence shakes.

Like a fiery shower it falls

All the hallow’d guests among,

Upon each within the walls

Sitting like a flaming tongue.

While the bright and lambent blaze

Plays their unharm’d heads around,

It hath gone, with piercing rays,

To their deepest hearts profound.

All aghast the nations throng,

While with other tongues they name

Things that unto Heaven belong,

And whate’er they speak is flame.

Lo, again, O sight of fear,

For the hearer hath a tongue;

Of new prophets, while they hear,

Hath another harvest sprung.

Praise to Father, and to Son,

And to Thee, the Holy One,

By whose awful breath divine

Our dull spirits burn and shine.