Come, Spirit of the Living God!
I hate the ways of sin;
Take hold of my unworthy heart,
And deign to dwell therein.
Black it is in every part,
Dark and dull, I know:
But thou canst raise a flame of love,
Till all its darkness glow.
Cold, and full of cracks and flaws;
But thou hast fire and care,
Canst make it blush and burn with love,
And earnestness of prayer.
Come, come! Thou canst supply all wants,
And all diseases cure;
And I! — I long, I mourn for Thee,
For then I should be pure.
Menie Parkes, Poems, F. Cunninghame, Sydney, , page 115