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 Thou, of  all  consolers  best. Visiting    the  troubled   breast, Dost refreshing  peace  bestow:

Thou in  toil  art  comfort   sweet; Pleasant coolness  in  the heat; Solace in  the  midst  of  woe.

Light immortal! light divine! Visit Thou  these  hearts  of Thine,

And our  inmost  being  fill. If Thou  take  Thy  grace away,

Nothing pure  in  man  will stay; All his  good  is  turn'd  to  ill. Heal our  wounds  —  our strength renew; On our  dryness  pour  Thy dew; Wash the  stains  of  guilt away:

Bend the  stubborn  heart and  will; Melt the  frozen,  warm  the chill; Guide the  steps  that  go astray.