Rop tú mo baile,
a Choimdiu cride;
ní ní nech aile
acht Rí secht nime.
Rop tú mo scrútain
i lló ’s i n-aidche;
rop tú ad-chear
im chotlud caidche.
Rop tú mo labra,
rop tú mo thuicsiu;
rop tussu damsa,
rop misse duitsiu.
Rop tussu m’athair,
rop mé do macsu;
rop tussu lemsa,
rop misse latsu.
Rop tú mo chathscíath,
rop tú mo chlaideb;
rop tussu m’ordan,
rop tussu m’airer.
Rop tú mo dítiu,
rop tú mo daingen;
rop tú nom-thocba
i n-áentaid n-aingel.
Rop tú cech maithius
dom churp, dom anmain;
rop tú mo fhlaithius
i nnim ’s i talmain. |
Fill my horizon,
Lord of love.
Still my eyes
On the King above.
Be my thought
By day and night.
When eyelids shut,
Yet stay in sight.
Be my speech.
Be my IQ.
You for me.
I for You.
Be my Father.
I Your Son.
We together,
Kith and kin.
Be my battleshield.
Be my sword.
Be my dignity.
Be my reward.
Be my safehouse,
My basecamp strong.
Be my air-lift
With angel throng!
My body’s balm,
My spirit’s health,
Be my regime
In heaven and earth. |