A mighty, rushing wind
Swept through the house with power;
fire rested on our heads,
the long-awaited hour.
We’d tarried in Jerusalem,
waited for this day.
In the upper room
He’d commanded us to pray.
We’d lingered long, long hours
after His ascension,
seeking what He’d promised:
the Holy Ghost’s descension.
Descend He did indeed,
with that mighty gust of wind.
Our mouths began to utter
words welling up within.
They weren’t words we understood;
this mattered not a bit.
Divided on our heads was seen
tongues that were fire-lit.
People in the city
passing by our wall,
heard in their home language,
the mighty works of God.
They became bewildered
as they heard us pray;
they began to wonder
if we’d been drunk all day.
Some were laughing, others jeering,
they began to mock.
Others were perplexed,
“what is this strange, odd talk?”
But no, we’d not been drunk;
then Peter took the stage.
With new boldness he declared
Repentance in this age.
“People of Jerusalem,
I proclaim that you may know:
It is the Spirit who was prophesied,
Sent to the earth below.
Jesus Christ, the Son of God,
whom you all crucified
He is the sent Messiah!
For you he bled and died!
He conquered death and rose again,
ascended into heaven
He promised us He’d send us power—
Not just me and the eleven!”
This promised Holy Spirit—
He is here to stay.
He is our Helper and our Comforter
before that glorious Day.
He gives us power to serve,
provides the power for change.
the bondages that tie us break
In Jesus’ precious name.
As the crowd stood there before him,
they were cut right to the heart,
Stricken, they asked, they pled,
“Brothers, from where, then, do we start?”
“Repent, and turn,” Peter replied,
“Submit yourselves to Him.
His arms are wide–wide open.
Jesus forgives us of our sin.”
So, within that day,
3,000 came to faith
The promised Holy Spirit came,
salvation in its wake.
A mighty, rushing wind,
a hurricane force-storm—
the promised power had arrived
Pentecost’s good morn’.
Green Pastures, Quiet Waters 