We praise Thy name, all-ho­ly Lord,
For him, the bea­con-light
That shone beside our west­ern sea
Through mists of an­cient night;
Who sent to Ire­land’s faint­ing church
New tid­ings of Thy Word:
For Da­vid, prince of Cam­bri­an saints,
We praise Thee, ho­ly Lord.

For all the saint­ly band whose pray­ers
Still gird our land about,
Of whom, lest men dis­dain their praise,
The voice­less stones cry out;
Our hills and vales on ev­ery hand
Their names and deeds re­cord:
For these, thy an­cient he­ro host,
We praise Thee, ho­ly Lord.

Grant us but half their burn­ing zeal,
But half their ir­on faith,
But half their cha­ri­ty of heart,
And for­ti­tude to death;
That we with them and all Thy saints
May in Thy truth ac­cord,
And ev­er in Thy ho­ly Church,
May praise Thee, ho­ly Lord.