Come Holy Spirit

O gentle wind come hither here

and rush my woes away

for strength I find in looking near

tide parting yesterday

So apt to ponder failures, fears
and lose beatific sight
How cherish I the rhythm of 
love’s joyful glimmering light

My soul would hide a'midst its pulse
tossing to and fro 
Enraptured, kindled by the grace
which bids me onward go
         

                                                                       April 2003
Amy Whittlesey O'Neill