PARISH ANTHEM
By Michael D. Ryan.
In eighteen hundred and fifty one
When famine's winter fouled the air,
with Ireland's children on their knees,
What hope was there! What hope was there!
Their Abbey church razed to the ground,
The ashes scattered far and wide,
How can our people rise again?
How can their humble faith survive?
Who doubts the courage of the Gael
When Patrick's spirit leads us on?
We're in our Virgin Mother's care,
Our Christian faith is alive and strong
New walls did rise up stone on stone,
And God's own house did swiftly grow.
The willing workmen gave their sweat,
Their courage now we surely know.
The money came from rich and poor:
The crispy note, the copper coin.
Their legacy still stands today,
Still stands the rugged test of time.
Who doubts the courage of the Gael
When Patrick's spirit leads us on?
We're in our Virgin Mother's care,
Our Christian faith is alive and strong
That legacy is still our gift.
Far more, much more than mortared walls,
They passed to us a living faith
That down the generation calls,
And if we're worthy to receive,
It is our task and ours alone
To keep and pass the gift along,
As sturdy as this church of stone.
Who doubts the courage of the Gael
When Patrick's spirit leads us on?
We're in our Virgin Mother's care,
Our Christian faith is alive and strong