Irish spirituality throws up great contrasts, there is the mischievous realism of Is mebul dom imrádud:
My thought it is a wanton stranger
It skips away;
I fear ’twill bring my soul in danger
On Judgement Day.
For when the holy psalms are singing
Away it flies,
Gambolling, stumbling, lightly
springing Before God’s eyes.
‘Mongst giddypated folk it rambles,
Girls light of mind;
Through forests and through cities gambols
Swifter than wind.
Or the heavyweight hagiography of The Life of Adomnan:
A just man, indeed, was this man, with purity of nature like a patriarch. A true pilgrim, like Abraham. Gentle and forgiving of heart like Moses. A praiseworthy psalmist like David. A treasury of wisdom like Solomon. A choice vessel for proclaiming truth, like Paul the apostle. A man full of grace and bounty of the Holy Spirit. A branch of vine with fruitfulness, like John the Younger. A brilliant fire with embers which warm and heat the sons of life, kindling and inspiring charity. A lion in strength and power. A dove in meekness and simplicity. A serpent in sagacity and prudence towards righteousness. Mild, humble and gentle towards the sons of life, severe and unrestrained towards the sons of death. A slave of hard work and service for Christ. A king in honour and power for binding and loosing, for releasing and enslaving, for taking and restoring life.
I know which one I should prefer: I know which one I do prefer!