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Patricia
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« on: March 18, 2010, 09:33:30 AM »

 I came to the Irish people to preach the Gospel and endure the taunts of unbelievers, putting up with reproaches about my earthly pilgrimage, suffering many persecutions, even bondage, and losing my birthright of freedom for the benefit of others.

If I am worthy, I am ready also to give up my life, without hesitation and most willingly, for Christ's name. I want to spend myself for that country, even in death, if the Lord should grant me this favor.

It is among that people that I want to wait for the promise made by him, who assuredly never tells a lie. He makes this promise in the Gospel: "They shall come from the east and west and sit down with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob." This is our faith: believers are to come from the whole world.

-- Saint Patrick of Ireland from the Confession of Saint Patrick
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'His mother saith to the servants: Whatsoever he shall say to you, do ye.'
~~~John 2:5
Brigid
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« Reply #1 on: March 18, 2010, 01:46:57 PM »

Quote
Christ to shield me today,
Against poisoning, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So there come to me abundance of reward.
Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left, Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every one who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

I arise today through a might strength,
the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the threeness,
Through confession of the oneness
Of the Creator of Creation.
From St. Patrick's Breastplate, said to be composed by him in celebration of the victory over paganism.
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For where thy treasure is, there is thy heart also.
Matt. 6:21
Shin
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« Reply #2 on: March 18, 2010, 02:20:15 PM »

A blessing on the Munster people —
Men, youths, and women;
A blessing on the land
That yields them fruit.

A blessing on every treasure
That shall be produced on their plains,
Without any one being in want of help,
God's blessing be on Munster.

A blessing on their peaks,
On their bare flagstones,
A blessing on their glens,
A blessing on their ridges.

Like the sand of the sea under ships,
Be the number in their hearths;
On slopes, on plains,
On mountains, on hills, a blessing.
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'Flores apparuerunt in terra nostra. . . Fulcite me floribus. (The flowers appear on the earth. . . stay me up with flowers. Sg 2:12,5)
Shin
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« Reply #3 on: March 17, 2012, 12:40:15 AM »

Sanctus Patricius ora pro nobis!
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'Flores apparuerunt in terra nostra. . . Fulcite me floribus. (The flowers appear on the earth. . . stay me up with flowers. Sg 2:12,5)
martin
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« Reply #4 on: March 17, 2012, 08:55:28 AM »

    I arise today
    Through God's strength to pilot me:
    God's might to uphold me,
    God's wisdom to guide me,
    God's eye to look before me,
    God's ear to hear me,
    God's word to speak for me,
    God's hand to guard me,
    God's way to lie before me,
    God's shield to protect me,
    God's host to save me
    From snares of devils,
    From temptations of vices,
    From everyone who shall wish me ill,
    Afar and anear,
    Alone and in multitude.

   

    I summon today all these powers between me and those evils,
    Against every cruel merciless power that may oppose my body and soul,
    Against incantations of false prophets,
    Against black laws of pagandom
    Against false laws of heretics,
    Against craft of idolatry,
    Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,
    Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul.

    Christ to shield me today
    Against poison, against burning,
    Against drowning, against wounding,
    So that there may come to me abundance of reward.
    (From St. Patrick's Breastplate)
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"I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.
(Galatians 2:20)
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« Reply #5 on: March 17, 2012, 12:57:39 PM »

Amen amen! Cheesy I love this prayer!
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'Flores apparuerunt in terra nostra. . . Fulcite me floribus. (The flowers appear on the earth. . . stay me up with flowers. Sg 2:12,5)
Patricia
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« Reply #6 on: March 17, 2012, 06:16:11 PM »

I like this prayer too! I said it out aloud and it feels so good to pray!  Little Angel
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'His mother saith to the servants: Whatsoever he shall say to you, do ye.'
~~~John 2:5
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« Reply #7 on: October 06, 2013, 05:53:27 AM »

At funerals in County Sligo, the spade and the shovel are left in the shape of a cross at the open grave. This is a custom that has been handed down from St. Patrick.
   The saint had a servant called Domhnaill, and one day he was collecting wood to make a fire. He collected such a large bundle that he was unable to lift it by himself.
   Suddenly, a small man — one of the Faery People — appeared, lifted the bundle and set it down where the fire was to be lit. Domhnaill thanked the little man, who declared that he must do him a favour in return.
   'Tomorrow', said the fairy, 'while St. Patrick is saying the mass, ask him what will become of the Little People on the Last Day of Judgement.'
   Domhnaill put the fairy's question to St. Patrick in the middle of the church service. The saint, surprised at the interruption, replied, 'They will be lost.' Afterwards, he asked his servant why he had put the question to him at such a time.
   Domhnaill explained that it had been the fairy's bargain, and that he must return next day with the reply.
   'I know that the Faery People will not be pleased with the answer,' he said, unhappily.
St Patrick was concerned for his servant's safety. "You must keep the bargain you have made with the fairy,' he said, 'but you must also protect yourself.' He told Domhnaill to dig a grave wide and deep enough to lie in, and to stay in it for one whole day.
   At the top of the grave, the spade and shovel must be placed in the form of a cross, to ward off evil spirits. The next day Domhnaill returned to the fairy, who asked the question: 'What will happen to the Little People on the Last Day?' 
   'They will be lost Domhnaill replied. Immediately, the shrieks and screams of millions of fairies were heard. A terrible storm broke out, lightning flashed and thunder rolled as it had never rolled before.
   The fairies were in a terrible, vengeful mood but Domhnaill remained safe beneath his cross in the ground.
Eventually, the fairies' cries became a plaintive wailing. Domhnaill staved in his grave for two days, and then emerged safely.
The crossed spade and shovel have been placed over newly dug graves ever since.
 

 
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Poche
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« Reply #8 on: October 06, 2013, 05:54:40 AM »

The Hawk's Well at Tullaghnan, on the slopes of the Ox Mountains, is one of the wonders of Ireland. Its origin, like that of the crossed spade and shovel, is attributed to St Patrick.
   The saint was on the peak of a mountain in County Mayo, which is now known as Croagh Patrick. There he banished all the serpents and demons out of Ireland and into the sea, where they drowned.
   However, one demon-serpent managed to escape. This demon was known as Caorthannach, sometimes called the Fire-Spitter, and it was even said that she was the devil's mother.
   The demon slid down the side of Ox Mountain thinking that she was unobserved. But St Patrick saw her, and was determined that no demon should remain in Ireland. At  the foot of the mountain, the fastest horse in County Mayo was brought for him to ride. The saint mounted, and set off in pursuit of Caorthannach, the Fire-Spitter.
  The demon sped northwards, spitting fire as she went. She knew that St Patrick would need water to quench his thirst, so she poisoned every well that she passed.
  The saint became more and more thirsty as he pursued the demon. But he knew he must not drink from the contaminated wells, and rode on. When he reached Tullaghan, in County Sligo, he was so desperately thirsty that he prayed for a drink.
  Suddenly, his horse stumbled on a rock and St Patrick was thrown to the ground. As he fell, his hand and back struck a stone - and where he landed, a well sprang up beside him.
  The water from (his well was fresh and safe to drink, and the saint drank from it until his thirst was quenched. Then he hid himself in a hollow beside Carraig-an-Seabhach - the Hawk's Rock - and waited for the Fire-Spitter.
  As the demon approached, St Patrick sprang out and banished her with one word. The Fire-Spitter drowned in the Atlantic Ocean, and the swell she created flowed into the well. It is now a healing well and ebbs and flows with the tide -containing first fresh, and then salt waiter.
  The mark of St Patrick's hand and back, where he fell from his horse, and the imprint of the horse's hoof can still be seen on the stones by the well.
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Poche
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« Reply #9 on: October 06, 2013, 05:55:11 AM »

 Coney Island, in the bay of Sligo, used to be known as Inis Coinin - the island of rabbits. When St Patrick visited the island, he hoped that one day it would be possible to build a church there.
   He was invited to dine with one of the island families. His hostess, however, was distressed because she had no rabbit available to cook. But when the meal was served the problem had obviously been resolved, for the main dish appeared to be a delicious rabbit stew.
   The saint blessed the food, and as he was about to eat it, a dog suddenly appeared. Immediately, a cat jumped up from St Patrick's plate and bounded out of the door.
   The saint rose to his feet in anger. He said that because of what had happened, no church should ever be built on the island. Then, seeing the people's dismay, he added that every Sunday it would be possible for them to cross the seas to a church on the mainland.
   So now Coney Islanders worship on Sundays without getting; their feet wet — either crossing by boat to Rosses Point, or walking across the sands to Strandhill at low tide.
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Poche
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« Reply #10 on: October 06, 2013, 05:55:57 AM »

Saint Patrick came one night to a farmer’s house, and there was a great candle shining in some place near, and three or four of the farmer’s sons had got their death through it for every one that would see it would get his death. 
  It was some evil thing that put it there, witchcraft that the Druids used to be doing at that time the way the Freemasons do it in England to this day. They do that, and they have a way of knowing each other if they would meet in a crowd. 
  But Saint Patrick went to where the candle was, and it did him no harm and he put it out, and it was never lighted again in Ireland.
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