Andreas Hakenberger
(c.1574 - 1627)

Veni Sancte Spiritus
(S.S.A.A.T.T.T.B.B.B.)
Full score (PDF), €0.00 for unlimited copies   Download this item
Printable cover page (PDF), €0.00 for unlimited copies   Download this item

Please click here to report any problem obtaining a PDF
Page 1 of 19
Creative Commons Licence
This work, Hakenberger : Veni Sancte Spiritus : scoreid 148151, as published by notAmos Performing Editions, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. All relevant attributions should state its URL as https://www.notamos.co.uk/detail.php?scoreid=148151. Permissions beyond the scope of this licence may be available at https://www.notamos.co.uk/index.php?sheet=about.
Motet for Pentecost from Harmonia Sacra, Frankfurt, 1617.
Lyrics: ? Stephen Langton

Veni Sancte Spiritus
et emitte cœlitus
lucis tuæ radium.
Veni pater pauperum,
veni dator munerum,
veni lumen cordium.

Consolator optime,
dulcis hospes animæ,
dulce refrigerium.
In labore requies,
in æstu temperies,
in fletu solacium.

O lux beatissima,
reple cordis intima
tuorum fidelium.
Sine tuo numine
nihil est in homine,
nihil est innoxium.

Lava quod est sordidum,
riga quod est aridum,
sana quod est saucium.
Flecte quod est rigidum,
fove quod est frigidum,
rege quod est devium.

Da tuis fidelibus
in te confidentibus
sacrum septenarium.
Da virtutis meritum,
da salutis exitum,
da perenne gaudium.

Come, thou Holy Spirit, come,
and from thy celestial home
shed a ray of light divine;
come, thou Father of the poor,
come, thou source of all our store,
come, within our hearts to shine.

Thou of comforters the best,
thou the soul's most welcome guest,
sweet refreshment here below;
in our labour rest most sweet,
grateful coolness in the heat,
solace in the midst of woe.

O most blessèd Light divine,
shine within these hearts of thine,
and our inmost being fill;
where thou art not, man hath naught,
nothing good in deed or thought,
nothing free from taint of 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.

On the faithful, who adore
and confess thee, evermore
in thy sevenfold gifts descend:
Give them virtue's sure reward,
give them thy salvation, Lord,
give them joys that never end.

(trans. Edward Caswall)