Classic Poem

I come the rushing wind that shook the place
Where those once sat who spake with tongues of fire
O'er thee to shed the freely given grace
And bid them speak while I thy verse inspire
The world shall hear and know that thou art sent
To preach glad tidings to the needy poor
And witness that by me the power is lent
That wakes the dead, the halt and lame can cure
Thy words shall breathe refreshment to the mind
That long has borne the heavy yoke of pain
For thou art to the will of Him who lives resigned
And from thy sorrows reap the promised gain
And gather fruits with Him who with thee sows
Nor can men steal thy goods, for none thy treasure knows