  I Welcome to thee, O White Paternoster! And welcome to thyself! Where didst thou sleep last night? As He slept, the King of Light. Where wilt thou sleep again? As the poor will sleep, in want and pain. And the night after that, where wilt thou sleep? At the feet of St. Patrick my rest shall be deep. II Who are they out before thee I see? Twelve fair angels defending me. Who are they behind thee west? The twelve apostles ever blest. What may that at thy right hand be? Holy water that Mary gave me, That it might lead me, with guidance wise, From this door to the door of Paradise. III The key of Paradise, that I need; The vat of gold stands there, indeed, With its cover above it, golden-bright; Yonder where candles blaze alight; Candles that cannot be removed Till the full of my two hands shall be The flowing fulness of stream and sea. IV O Men of the World who are shedding tears, I put Mary with her Son between you and your fears, Brigit with her mantle, Michael with his shield, And the two long white hands of God from behind folding us all, Between you and each grief All the years, From this night till a year from to-night, And this night itself, with God. |
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