Oh Shamrock ! pride of Erin, thou dost claim 
Not from her sons alone the rapture warm ; 
Each Christian heart should kindle at the name 
Fated the stubborn Pagan to disarm. 
Full well lie read, that holy man of old, 
A mighty mystery from the humble sod ; 
With wondering awe they saw the saint unfold 
Thy triple leaf, and teach a Triune God. 
Then, unbelief and préjudice took flight ; 
Hath not God chosen “ weak things to confound ? ” 
And darkness fled before the flood of light. 
And heathen ears received the Gospel sound. 
Then Shamrock, whilst the poet of thine isle 
Thy praise shall sing, as “ prized of bard and chief,” 
Be ours to greet with gratitude the while 
The holier story of thy simple leaf. 
