≡ Menu


Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art

High King of Heaven, my victory won
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heav’n’s Sun
Heart of my own heart, whate’er befall
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all

Hymn: Be Thou My Vision – Men Of The West

Comments on this entry are closed.

  • Rob De Witt May 27, 2018, 11:49 AM

    I agree, a beautiful and moving hymn.

    And unfortunately a terrible whiny singer.

  • Phil Ossiferz Stone May 27, 2018, 12:03 PM

    In other news, the Irish just voted to allow in-womb infanticide. Go look at the news footage of the cheering crowds. They’re ecstatic.

  • Anonymous May 27, 2018, 12:56 PM

    Beautiful …

  • Ann K. May 28, 2018, 7:04 AM

    Beautiful! Thank you.

  • Phil in Englewood May 28, 2018, 8:06 AM

    Very nice, Gerard. Thank you. Where did the eagle on the tombstone picture come from?

  • Anonymous May 28, 2018, 9:09 AM

    Eagle pausing, paying homage
    On cemetery stone
    Whispers to the sleeper
    You are never alone.

  • rabbit tobacco May 28, 2018, 2:13 PM

    all gave some,some gave all.

  • Gordon Scott May 30, 2018, 9:19 AM

    When, visiting Ireland about ten years ago, I met a young guy and gal at a restaurant. He was from Scotland and she was Irish. They were employed on a nearby road construction scheme. Their jobs were to make sure wildlife wasn’t damaged. As one said, “we protect the badgers and the bats.”

    I replied that I was happy that they had found a way to soak the taxpayers at so little effort from themselves, and that in the US, the badgers and bats looked after themselves quite successfully. They really were nice kids, and I think they knew it was silly.

    But this was Ireland, always the poorest place in Europe. And now they could afford to pay badger babysitters. I knew they were doomed. They had gotten rich by selling each other houses on the assumption that a house in beautiful, but bleak rainy windy Galway was as valuable as a house on the Costa Brava.

    It wasn’t.