This joyful day, with gladness fraught,
Again the circling year hath brought,
When bright o’er each apostle’s head,
The Spirit Paraclete was shed.
On each the fire, descending, stood
In quivering tongue’s similitude,
That eloquent their speech might be,
And fervent they in charity.
In varying tongues their God they praise;
The Gentiles listen in amaze:
Men mock, as if new wine had fired
The breasts God’s Spirit had inspired.
‘This here the mystic figures meet;
The fifty days are now complete,
The sacred number, which set free
The debtor, at the Jubilee.
O God of love, before thee now
Thy flock in supplication bow;
On us from heaven, in plenteous store,
The graces of thy Spirit pour.
And as their breasts, this festaltide,
By thy sweet gifts were sanctified;
Do thou, O Lord, our sins forgive,
And grant us thy peace to live.
To God the Father let us sing,
To God the Son, our risen King,
And equally let us adore
The Spirit, God forevermore.