'Twas fifteen hundred years ago
In Britain to a Gaelic wealthy
pair,
Maewyn "warlike" Succat, baptized Patrick
A baby boy was born, so fair.
But alas, at sixteen, only just
a lad
Irish pirates kidnapped him
away,
Raided his family of their hopes
By taking Pat to Ireland's bay.
For six long years he labored
there
A slave upon the hills of sheep,
All alone, he knelt down on his
knee
In his heart he heard God speak.
With courage he sailed to
Europe's shores
To learn the more about his
Lord,
And thus prepared returned to
the Isle
To share God's love with
every mile.
He'd bend to pick a three leaf
clover
To tell of the God he knew,
Father Son and Holy Spirit
As he sought to teach all that
was true.
Upon his passing
Ireland was greatly blessed
For he left behind great
heritage,
Of churches, schools and
colleges
Thus it is said...by his beating
drum
Of snakes, Ole Ireland was rid!!
Christ be with me,
Christ be within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before
me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win
me,
Christ to comfort me, Christ
above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in
danger
Christ in hearts of all that
love me
Christ in mouth of friend and
stranger.
FROM THE BREASTPLATE OF SAINT
PATRICK
Deep peace
of the running waves to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to
you.
Deep peace of the smiling stars
to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to
you.
Deep peace of the watching
shepherds to you.
Deep peace of the Son of Peace
to you
AN
OLD GAELIC PRAYER
May the grace of God’s
protection
And His great love abide
Within your home-within the
hearts
Of all who dwell inside.
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