Cold is the wind to-night, and rough the sea, Too rough for even the daring Dane to find A landing-place upon the frozen lea. Cold is the wind.
The blast sweeps round the chapel from behind, Making the altar-light flare fitfully, While I must kneel and pray with troubled mind.
Patrick and Brigid, I have prayed to ye! The night is over, and my task resigned To Colum. Though God's own dwelling shelter me, Cold is the wind.