Again the slowly Circling year
Brings round the blessed hour,
When on the saints the Paraclete
Came down in grace and pow'r.

In fashion of a fiery tongue
On each and all he came,
Their lips with eloquence he strung
And filled their hearts with flame.

Straight 'way, with divers tongues they spake,
Instinct with grace divine,
While wondering crowds the cause mistake
And deem them drunk with wine.

These things were mystically wrought,
The Paschal time complete,
When Israel's law remission brought
Of evr’y legal debt.

O God of grace, to thee we pray,
To thee adoring bend,
Into our hearts, this sacred day,
Thy Spirit's fullness send.

Thou who in ages past didst pour
Thy graces from above,
Thy grace in us, where lost, restore,
Establish peace and love.

All glory to the Father be
and to the Son who rose;
Glory, O Holy Ghost, to thee,
While age on ages flows.