St. Bridget

Sweet heaven's smile     Gleamed o'er the isle,      That gems the dreamy sea.     One far gone day,     And flash'd its ray,     More than a thousand years away,      Pure Bridget, over thee.     White as the snow,     That falls below      To earth on Christmas night,     Thy pure face shone     On every one;     For Christ's sweet grace thy heart had won      To make thy birth-land bright.     A cloud hangs o'er     Thy Erin's shore --      Ah! God, 'twas always so.     Ah! virgin fair     Thy heaven pray'r     Will help thy people in their care,      And save them from their woe.     Thou art in light --     They are in light;      Thou hast a crown -- they a chain.     The very sod,     Made theirs by God,     Is still by tyrants' footsteps trod;      They pray -- but all in vain.     Thou! near Christ's throne,     Dost hear the moan      Of all their hearts that grieve;     Ah! virgin sweet,     Kneel at His feet,     Where angels' hymns thy prayer shall greet,      And pray for them this eve.