O Power, whose vision blinded Paul and shone through Christ, on thee we call.
Hail, soul of Man's fine harmonies which subtly blend to gladness calm.
Hail, ruler here beneath the skies: Hail, fire and flight of Hebrew's psalm;
Mid creeds and temples' ruin strown, lead us by thy still light alone.
Faiths old and dead have vanished before the splendors of thy flame,
Thine impulse thrills to strength the social heart and warms the palest hope to life;
It makes the coldest spirit smart in anguish for our human strife.
Thou mouldest states and Gods like clay, and every shape attests thy sway.
Old laws expire, new minds desire the quickening which thou sendest forth.
New meanings thrill through threadbare forms.
New life inspires old melodies: still the heavens sought not in vain, say, “God is Man's sublimest pain.”
Radiant now are Reason's eyes, relieved at last from anxious quest,
As seeing from a crowd arise a long sought face beloved best.
O soul of Man's fine harmonies, mysterious more the better known—we thee adore.