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النشر الإلكتروني

KING ROBERT'S HYMN.

HOLY Spirit! Fire divine!
Send from heaven a ray of thine,
Lighten our obscurity:

Come, thou Father of the poor;
Come, thou Giver and Renewer, —
Fountain of all purity!

Visit us, Consoler best!

Thou the bosom's sweetest guest,
Sweetest comfort proffering:
Thou dost give the weary rest,
Shade to all with heat opprest,
Solace in all suffering.

O blest Light ineffable!

With thy faithful amply dwell:

Lord of our humanity, Nothing lives without thy ray; Reft of thy enlivening day,

All is void and vanity.

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Veni, Sancte Spiritus.

Lava quod est sordidum,
Riga quod est aridum,

Sana quod est saucium,
Flecte quod est rigidum,
Fove quod est frigidum,
Rege quod est devium !

Da tuis fidelibus,
In te confidentibus,

Sacrum septenarium:
Da virtutis meritum,
Da salutis exitum,

Da perenne gaudium!

King Robert's Hymn. What is foul, oh! purify, Water what in us is dry,

All our hurts alleviate, Bend our temper's rigidness, Warm our nature's frigidness, Bring back all who deviate!

Give them who in thee abide,
All that do in thee confide,

Give them grace increasingly:
Give to virtue its reward,
Saving end to all accord,
Joy in heaven unceasingly

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FOR INSPIRATION.

BEN sarian dolci le preghiere mie,
Se virtù mi prestassi da pregarte ;
Nel mio terreno infertil non è parte
Da produr frutto di virtù natìe.

Tu il seme se' dell' opre giuste e pie, Che là germoglian dove ne fai parte; Nessun proprio valor può seguitarte, Se non gli mostri le tue belle vie.

Tu nella mente mia pensieri infondi
Che producano in me sì vivi effetti,
Signor, ch' io segua i tuoi vestigi santi;

E dalla lingua mia chiari e facondi
Sciogli della tua gloria ardenti detti,
Perchè sempre io ti lodi, esalti, e canti.

FOR INSPIRATION.

THE prayers I make will then be sweet indeed,
If Thou the spirit give by which I pray :
My unassisted heart is barren clay,

That of its native self can nothing feed:

Of good and pious works thou art the seed,

That quickens only where thou sayst it may: Unless thou show to us thine own true way, No man can find it; Father! thou must lead.

Do thou then breathe those thoughts into my mind,

By which such virtue may in me be bred,
That in thy holy footsteps I may tread;

The fetters of my tongue do thou unbind, That I may have the power to sing of thee, And sound thy praises everlastingly.

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