The inside of St. Patrick’s. We got there just as the choir was practicing. We listened to them for an hour while we wandered around and took photos. Then we stayed for the afternoon service. During the service we sang Be Thou My Vision and it was ethereal.
St. Patrick’s, Dublin Ireland. 
“the truest measure of any society is how it treats those who are most vulnerable.”
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs--
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Lord, help me be much less the former and much more the latter.
Up close and personal with the Abbey. 
Some architectural pictures from England and Ireland. Taken near Inken England, Oxford, London and Dublin.
Some photos from a hike we took in Ireland. 
finalite 