O Living God!
Alas for him who evil works!
That which he thinks not of, comes to him;
That which hopes, vanishes out of his hand.
There is no magic that can tell our fate,
Nor bird upon the branch,
Nor trunk of gnarled oak...
Better is He in whom we trust,
The King who has made us all.
Who will not leave me tonight without refuge.
I adore not the voice of birds
Nor chance, nor the love a son or of a wife,
My druid is Christ, the Son of God,
The Son of Mary, the Great Abbott,
The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
- Attributed to Columcille (Columba of Iona, 6th Century)
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