Holy, Holy, Holy,
“Come near, O wee brown bird!”
Christ spake: and low I lighted
Upon the Living World.
Holy, Holy, Holy,
I heard the mocking scorn!
But Holy, Holy, Holy,
I sang against a thorn!
Holy, Holy, Holy,
Ah, his brow was bloody;
Holy, Holy, Holy,
All my breast was ruddy.
Holy, Holy, Holy,
Christ’s-Bird shalt thou be:
Thus said Mary Virgin
There on Calvary.
Holy, Holy, Holy,
A wee brown bird am I:
But my breast is ruddy
For I saw Christ die.
Holy, Holy, Holy,
By this ruddy feather,
Colum, call thy monks, and
All the birds together.
[4] “O my Grief, my Grief!”
And at that Colum rose. Awe was upon him, and joy.
He went out, and told all to the monks. Then he said Mass out on the green sward. The yellow sunshine was warm upon his gray hair. The love of God was warm in his heart.
“Come, all ye birds!” he cried.