Of the Spirit in whom thou dost live,
Prompt, unwearied, as here.
Still thou upraisest with zeal
The humble good from the ground,
Sternly repressest the bad;
Still, like a trumpet, dost rouse
Those who with half-opened eyes
Tread the border-land dim
'Twixt vice and virtue reviv'st,
Succorest. This was thy work,