The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1917-03-24
MORRIS CELEBRATES
ST. PATRICk's DAY
Continued from page ~

length and breadth of Europe in many
q dim cathedral, the names of Irish
saints still live upon the lips of wor-
shippers, and the shrines of Irish
saints are still the objects of venera-
ton.
'It would seem to be no stretch of
the magination for us to fancy that
we have been used by God for accom-
plishing His purposes-that the very
prosecutions our people suffered have
been turned to His cause speak to-
night, with no bitterness. The whole
history of my people is one long record
of kindness. We have always returned
good for evil and we have not lost by
the exchange. England robbed us of
our language and we became a land
of poets and orators. England thought
to stamp out our fire of faith, and it
burst into blaze that enlightened the
world. She may have succeeded in
Quenching the lamp in Kildare's lowly
shrine; but we paid her back by re-
kindling the dying embers of Catholic
ity within her borders. We sent to her
shores an Irish exile, the son of Irish
peasants, who knocked at her hardened
heart and demanded admission and
restored her hierarchy; we sent her
the first bishop since the reformation,
as sanity man as she ever nurtured
within her bosom, the illustrious Car
dinal Wiseman. England might pre-
vent the Irish priest from officiating
at Armagh or Clanmacnoise or Cashel,
but it only gave him an opportunity of
uniting the name of St. Patrick in
characters of imperishable art, of dis
playing the triumphs of Irish faith and
Irish love in every cline under heaven,
from the seven-hilled city of the Popes
whence our Apostle came, commits
stoned by Celestine to the remotest
corners of the old world; and from
where the proudest edifice in this new
land offers the first salute of free
church to the rising sun to where the
magnificent Cathedrals raised under
the shadow of the Southern Cross at
guaranteed should never fail his sons.
England would, on account of our re-
ligion, disfranchise us; we gave them
selves an emancipation. England would
leave US without bishop, today there
are more mitred sons of st. Patrick
than of any other Apostle. 1t has been
said, know not and l care not with
what truth, that the sun never sets
upon the dominions of England. This
l do know, that the sun never sets or
the faith of Ireland. We have doggeG
their footsteps, and the Union Jack has
never yet fluttered from fortress thai
we did not plant, side by side, with it
the banner of Erin's faith. Wherever
the English tongue is spoken the Irisf
have gone in the van, bearing in thei1
breasts the faith of Rome. and or
their lips the name of their Apostle
You have only to look around 70,
here in this glorious republic and 20,
will see, seated in her giant strength
church whose pillars have been mel
with the traditions of noble race
names to conjure with-the Carols
and the Hughes, the Ryans and tn
.Kenricks, the Gibbons and the Ireland
names that have not only shed ;
1ustre on the land of their missionar!
labors, but an imperishable glory OF
the faith of their fathers.
THAT is the triumph of Ireland
faith. 1t is the wonder of the world
There is no parallel for it but the per
severance of the Irish people in tn
sacred cause of nationality. And tina
perseverance is characteristic no
only of those who live in the old land
but of the Celt the world over. w,
may be called dreamers, but no grea
effort has ever yet been begun ant
persevered in except by the dreamers
Some cheap patriots may dub us ny
phenates; let the fire-fringed field o
Fredericksburgh be our answer. Yes
we love the land of our fathers; ant
it matters little whether we were borl
in that hallowed isle as many of yo1
were, or whether we were never priv
legged to set out foot on it's holy sol
as in my own case, we are equally tru
to it. When thousands of miles ava
from the old sod, we hear its fon
name spoken, in the old expressly
mother tongue, our eye brightens an
our bosom heaves. Her fertile field
may be laid bare, her sacred shrine
may be desecrated, her people perse
cuted, she is still for us our Bamb
of the Streams, she shall always b
for us our dark Rosaleen.