Spirit of God, sweet holy rushing fire,
Fall fast upon this soul and draw it higher.
Up where your glories storm and ever flow.
Where I may stand consumed in your fierce glow,
Where love dwells not opposed to awestruck fear,
Where you, though Lord on high, walk sweetly near.
Forever by your sight may I be led,
Your ever-present hand upon my head.
Hemming my steps behind, before, beside,
You, raging Torch of God, my steadfast Guide.
Unbridled, thund’ring tide, pour out your pow’r.
Resist no longer; come this very hour.
Fill up this cup and overflow its rim.
Allow me deeper in your depths to swim
And only ever more of you to know
Though knowing you be hard and its path slow.

© 2011 Eric Evans


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