God of this Irish Isle

God of this Irish isle!

Blessed and old,

Wrapp'd in the morning's smile

In the sea's fold

Here, where Thy saints have trod

Here, where they pray'd

Hear me, O saving God!

May I be saved?

God of the circling sea!

Far-rolling and deep

Its caves are unshut to Thee,

Its bounds Thou dost keep

Here, from this strand,

Whence saints have gone forth

Father! I own Thy hand,

Humbled to earth.

God of this blessed light

Over me shining!

On the wide way of right

I go, unrepining.

No more despising

My lot or my race,

But toiling, uprising,

To Thee through Thy grace.