Come, thou Holy Spirit, come,
and from thy celestial home
shed a ray of light divine!
Veni, Sancte Spiritus,
et emitte caelitus
lucis tuae radium.
Why do we say “Come”? Isn’t the Spirit of God, the Spirit of Christ always with us? If the Spirit of God were not present in us, we wouldn’t even exist. The grace of God sustains us at every moment, and according to Meister Eckhart, “Grace comes only with the Holy Spirit; it carries the Holy Spirit on its back.”
So why do we pray, “Come”?
It goes without saying that we are in the realm of Mystery here, as we are whenever we speak of God, and in truth whenever we get up in the morning or go to bed at night. And we have only human language to talk about that Mystery. So when we say the Spirit of God is present, we don’t mean present in the way we mean that another human being is present. And when we say God is near, we don’t mean near in the way that this chair is near and that door is farther away. When we talk about God being near or far, we are talking about our human experience, and we are using human words to express something that can’t really be expressed.
One thing we are praying for when we say, “Come,” is our own openness to the powerful and mysterious presence of the Holy Spirit. The prayer itself expresses a willingness for God to take over our hearts and our lives.
Come, Holy Spirit, I am open to receive you (or at least, I want to be open to welcome you).
Come, Holy Spirit, I need you, and I desire to desire only what you desire.
Come, Holy Spirit, do with me whatever pleases you.
And, if you will, shed a ray of light on the dimness of vision and dullness of heart that hide you from me. Accomplish in me what I cannot do for myself. Send a ray of light divine: take away my murkiness of heart, so that I may know and love God. So that I do not remain immured in my own obscurity, my own fog of self. Teach me to see without seeing, in your clarity, even if that light seems to me like darkness.
I ask no dream, no prophet ecstasies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay,
No angel visitant, no opening skies;
But take the dimness of my soul away.
George Croly, “Spirit of God, Descend upon My Heart,” Psalms and Hymns for Public Worship (London: 1854).