Above the Starry Spheres

Above the star­ry spheres

To where He was be­fore

Christ had gone up

the Fa­ther’s gift

Upon the Church to pour.

At length had ful­ly come

On mys­tic cir­cle borne

Of se­ven times se­ven re­volv­ing days

The Pen­te­cost­al morn.

When

as the Apos­tles knelt

At the third hour in pray­er

A sud­den rush­ing sound pro­claimed

That God Him­self was there.

Forthwith a tongue of fire

Is seen on ev­ery brow

Each heart re­ceives the Fa­ther’s light

The Word’s en­kind­ling glow.

The Ho­ly Ghost on all

Is migh­ti­ly out­poured

Who straight in di­vers tongues de­clare

The won­ders of the Lord.

While strang­ers of all climes

Flock round from far and near

And their own tongue

wher­ev­er born

All with amaze­ment hear.

But Ju­dah

faith­less still

Denies the hand di­vine;

And

mock­ing

jeers the saints of Christ

As full of new made wine.

Till Pe­ter

in the midst

By Jo­el’s an­cient word

Rebukes their un­belief

and wins

Three thou­sand to the Lord.

The Fa­ther and the Son

And Spir­it we ad­ore

O may the Spir­it’s gifts be poured

On us for­ev­er­more.