
Hilary Musgrave, an Irish Sister of Charity, describes the essence of Celtic spirituality.
Click here to hear.
St. Patrick heard the voice of the Irish calling to him, saying, "Come holy boy and walk amongst us again." May we also hear Celtic voices both past and present—the ancient lives, the immigrant ancestors, the modern day wayfarers—and learn from their stories.

Born Isabella Augusta Persse, March 5, 1852, Roxborough, County Galway, Ireland—died May 22, 1932, Coole Park, County Galway. She married Sir W. H. Gregory, a widower several decades older than she. After his death, she turned her attention to writing and preserving Irish culture for the stage.Mankind as a whole had a like dream once;
everybody and nobody built up the dream bit by bit, and the ancient
story-tellers are there to make us remember what mankind would have been
like, had not fear and the failing will and the laws of nature tripped
up its heels. ~Lady Gregory, from Gods and Fighting Men



May the blessing of light be on you - light without and light within. May the blessed sunlight shine on you like a great peat fire, so that stranger and friend may come and warm himself at it. And may light shine out of the two eyes of you, like a candle set in the window of a house, bidding the wanderer come in out of the storm. And may the blessing of the rain be on you, may it beat upon your Spirit and wash it fair and clean, and leave there a shining pool where the blue of Heaven shines, and sometimes a star. And may the blessing of the earth be on you, soft under your feet as you pass along the roads, soft under you as you lie out on it, tired at the end of day; and may it rest easy over you when, at last, you lie out under it. May it rest so lightly over you that your soul may be out from under it quickly; up and off and on its way to God. And now may the Lord bless you, and bless you kindly. Amen.
—Scottish Blessing
My experience is that those who pray most in their closets generally make short prayers in public. Long prayers are too often not prayers at all, and they weary the people.
- How short the publican's prayer was: “God be merciful to me a sinner!”
- The Syrophoenician woman's was shorter still: “Lord help me!” She went right to the mark, and she got what she wanted.
- The prayer of the thief on the cross was a short one: “Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy Kingdom!”
- Peter's prayer was, “Lord, save me, or I perish!”
- Dance there upon the shore;
- What need have you to care
- For wind or water's roar?
- And tumble out your hair
- That the salt drops have wet;
- Being young you have not known
- The fool's triumph, nor yet
- Love lost as soon as won,
- Nor the best labourer dead
- And all the sheaves to bind.
- What need have you to dread
- The monstrous crying of wind?

I'm not an avid lover of poetry and certainly don't write it. But there are a few poets I enjoy.
The word pictures they paint are vivid in my mind. Yeats is one of those poets. (The photo is not of Innisfree.)The Lake Isle of Innisfree
by W.B. Yeats
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

To go to Rome
Is much of trouble, little of profit:
The King whom thou seekest here,
Unless thou bring Him with thee, thou wilt not find.
I wish, O Son of the living God, O ancient, eternal King,
For a hidden little hut in the wilderness that it may be my dwelling,
An all-grey lithe little lark to be by its side,
A clear pool to wash away sins through the grace of the Holy Spirit.
Quite near, a beautiful wood around it on every side,
To nurse many-voiced birds, hiding it with its shelter.
--From THE HERMITS' SONG
From Celtic Benediction, "Saturday Morning Prayer of Thanksgiving" by J. Philip Newell
For the night followed by the day
for the idle winter ground
followed by the energy of spring
for the infolding of the earth
followed by bursts of unfolding
thanks be to you, O God.

2There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. 4The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.
5The angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. 6He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. 7Then go quickly and tell his disciples: 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.' Now I have told you."
8So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. 9Suddenly Jesus met them. "Greetings," he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. 10Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."
...skipping to verse 16:
16Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. 17When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. 18Then Jesus came to them and said, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."
