1 Ye are the temple of the Spirit,
Time it is thy Lord to glorify,
Keeping from all that might defile thee,
Wondrous dwelling of the Lord Most High.
Holy Spirit, pow’r divine,
Let Thy purity be mine,
I Thy dwelling place would be,
Let Thy glory rest on me.

2 Shadows of doubting sin and sorrow,
Sometimes over thee their darkness shed,
Waiting the Lord’s hosts move not onward,
Till the cloud be lifted from thy head.
Let His smile upon thee rest,
Thou shall be supremely blest;
Joyful days to thee belong,
Shouts of praise and notes of song.

3 Into the gates oh bring thanksgiving,
Enter thou into His courts with praise,
So shall His kindness o’er thee hover,
So His favor shall prolong thy days.
Kings and priests to God art thou,
Humbly then in worship bow,
Prayer’s sweet incense daily bring,
Faith thy perfect offering.