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At Tara to-day, I put and I place,

The virtue that dwells in the seraphim's love And the virtue and grace,

That are in the obedience,

And unshaken allegiance,
Of all the archangels and angels above
And in the hope of the resurrection
To everlasting reward and election ;
And in the prayers of the fathers of old ;
And in the truths the prophets foretold ;
And in the Apostles' manifold preaching;
And in the confessois' faith and teaching;
And in the purity ever dwelling

Within the Immaculate Virgin's breast
And in the actions bright and excelling

Of all good men, the just and the best.


At Tara to-day, in this fateful hour,
I place all heaven with its power,
And the sun with its brightness,
And the snow with its whiteness,
And fire with all the strength it hath,
And lightning with its rapid wrath,
And the winds with their swiftness along their path,
And the sea with its deepness,
And the rocks with their steepness,
And the earth with its starkness,

All these I place,

By God's almighty help and grace, Between myself and the powers of darkness.


At Tara to-day,

May God be my stay
May the strength of God now nerve me
May the power of God preserve me !
May God the Almighty be near me !
May God the Almighty espy me !
May God the Almighty hear me !


May God give me eloquent speech !
May the arm of God protect me!
May the wisdom of God direct me!

May God give me power to teach and to preach
May the shield of God defend me!
May the host of God attend me,

And ward me,

And guard me,
Against the wiles of demons and devils;
Against the temptations of vice and evils;
Against the bad passions and wrathful will

Of the reckless mind and the wicked heart;
Against every man that designs me ill,

Whether leagued with others, or plotting apart.



I place all those powers, Between myself and every foe,

Who threatens my body and soul

With danger or dole ;
To protect me against the evils that flow,
From lying soothsayers' incantations ;
From the gloomy laws of the gentile nations
From heresy's hateful innovations ;
From idolatry's rites and invocations :
By these my defenders,

My guards against every ban-
And spells of smiths, and Druids, and women;

In fine, against every knowledge that renders, The light Heaven sends us, dim in

The spirit and soul of man!


Protect me to-day,

Against poison and fire ;
Against drowning and wounding;
That so in His grace abounding,

I may earn the preacher's hire !

CHRIST, as a light,

Illumine and guide me !
Christ, as a shield, o'ershadow and cover me !
CHRIST be under me ! CHRIST be over me !

Christ be beside me,

On left hand and right! Christ be before me, behind me, about me! CHRIST, this day, be within and without me!


CHRIST, the lowly and meek,

Christ the all-powerful, be
In the heart of each to whom I speak,
In the mouth of each who speaks to me,

In all who draw near me,
Or see me, or hear me !


AT TARA TO-DAY, in this awful hour,

I call on the Holy Trinity! Glory to Him who reigneth in power, The God of the elements, Father and Son, And paraclete Spirit, which Three are the One

The everlasting Divinity!


Salvation dwells with the Lord,
With CHRIST, the Omnipotent Word,
From generation to generation,
Grant us, O Lord, thy grace and salvation

molao an naom sacramaint.

nár lia aingil a B-flaitear faoi láir an R15: nár lia anmanna beanaigċe atá 'n-a pioğact, nár lia crutaig an t-acair air člár an t-saoigil, námolaogačteangan air ainm an t-Sacraimint.

nár lia braon a d-Tréanmuir fairge atá, nár lia éisg a m-béal na ngairive a snám, nár Lia féar san t-saoğal, ná gainu air tráig, námolaó Coirp naoča aon-1ic aċar nangras. nár lia bliagain a píoppuigeait árid an R15 nár lia subailce diada atá ag Críost, nár lia roillse tá a b-párrias árd an Ríš, na molao do dia go fíor san t-sácramint.

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nap lia réalta glinneac arrearea bíos, narlia bréière Léiğid a čléir do Críost, nar lia caol-tspuit ciğean san tréanmuir síos, na molar gan traoċao air naoỉ-Corp beann.

aigċe čríost.

nap lia litir le faicsin a g-clár an dliğe, nari lia duile gać coille dá n-deárnaö an Rig, narlia binn-guic cluinfear go brác nagigeact, na molao inic muire do ríor san t-Sacraimint.


More than the Angels round God's throne above,
More than the holy Ones filled with his love,
More than the creatures on earth by God sent,
Be the praises of Jesus in the sweet Sacrament.

More than the drops within deep ocean's brim,
More than the fish which in all waters swim,
More than the grass blades and sands on the shore,
Be the praises of Jesus, whom Christians adore.

More than the years in eternity's run,
More than the attributes of God's holy Son,
More than the lights before heaven's High King,
Be the praises of Jesus for myriads to sing.

More than the stars shining bright o'erhead,
More than the mercies on penitents shed,
More than the streams filling up the deep sea,
Be the praises of Jesus on the Altar for me.

More than the letters in the Book of the Law,
More than the forest leaves man ever saw,
More than the joy songs, where no tongue grows

Be the praises of Jesus, the sweet son of Marz.

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