Richard Wilton (1827–1903)

COME, Holy Dove,

Descend on silent pinion,

Brood o’er my sinful soul with patient love,

Till all my being owns Thy mild dominion.

Round yon sad Tree

With frequent circles hover,

That in my glorious Surety I may see

Grace to redeem and righteousness to cover.

On wings of peace

Bring from that precious Altar

The Blood which bids the storms of conscience cease,

And blots out all the debt of the defaulter.

Spirit of Grace,

Reveal in me my Saviour,

That I may gaze upon His mirrored Face,

Till I reflect it in my whole behaviour.

Oh, let me hear

Thy soft, low voice controlling

My devious steps with intimations clear,

With comforts manifold my heart consoling.

Let that sweet sound

To holy deeds allure me,

With heavenly echoes make my spirit bound,

And of my Home in Paradise assure me.

Come, Holy Dove,

Guide me to yon bright portal,

Where I shall see the Saviour whom I love,

And enter on the joys which are immortal.