Patrick at sixteen years
taken far away from home
a captive slave, still a boy
on a hillside all alone.
Under foreign skies
the shepherd called to God
Speak oh Lord and tell me
why I'm bound to Irish sod.
A hundred prayers he prayed by day
at night almost the same
called to prayer in ice and snow
and baptized in the rain.
Listening for the still small voice
from heaven's holy heights,
longing just to know the One
who hung stars in the night.
Through six long years the slave
breathed in revelation
alone with God below the sky
certain of salvation.
Then he was free, escaped to home
learning more of Christ, the Truth and Way.
A changed man now, humble, kind,
wanting only to obey.
taken far away from home
a captive slave, still a boy
on a hillside all alone.
Under foreign skies
the shepherd called to God
Speak oh Lord and tell me
why I'm bound to Irish sod.
A hundred prayers he prayed by day
at night almost the same
called to prayer in ice and snow
and baptized in the rain.
Listening for the still small voice
from heaven's holy heights,
longing just to know the One
who hung stars in the night.
Through six long years the slave
breathed in revelation
alone with God below the sky
certain of salvation.
Then he was free, escaped to home
learning more of Christ, the Truth and Way.
A changed man now, humble, kind,
wanting only to obey.
When in a dream the angel came
and called him back to Ireland,
so he brought the Word of Christ
and forever changed the land.
In the countryside and villages
before the great cathedrals soared
Saint Patrick spoke the truths of God
and souls came to the Lord.
He set a fire of love and truth
and it's blazing still
in Irish hearts who come to know
what he learned on Irish hills.
And so if you are in Ireland
and you're under starry skies
look up and pray as Patrick did
until the voice of God draws nigh.
~ L. L. Johnson
Great poem! Thanks for reminding me too, I'd forgotten it was today!
ReplyDeleteIt's sad that today's celebrated without the truth of what he was about!
ReplyDeleteIt's wonderful history isn't it? The media are not of the right spirit so they will leave out the truth and make it all about beer! I thought it was a great poem too! (-:
ReplyDeleteNot being Irish meant that I didn't remember , thanks for sharing the true story. No one wants the truth, they want fun and alcohol .
ReplyDeleteHave a lovely weekend.