People who enter the Church of Our Lady's Nativity via the old main road gates may not be familar with the holy water font on the Celbridge Road side. Leixlippians who went to school in the Scouts' Den (up to 1953) know it well. After the penal church became a school, c 1833, the old font remained in place until the 1960s, when it was removed for safe keeping by Jim Farrell of Main Street. He presented it to Father Hyland P.P. when Leixlip became a parish in the early 70s. It forms an historic link between the present church and the old penal building.

But lets not forget the other historic link ..........

The Mass Path

This is the path used by the scouts and their leaders, coming and going from the old main road. In older days it was an important and welcome shortcut for weary mass goers, having made their way along the rutted pathway adjoining the banks of the River Rye. Last year Leixlip Tidy Town Association, working with Leixlip Town Council and Kelt, resurfaced the rutted pathway.

This year LTTA with the help and co-operation of Kildare County Council, plans to improve the Mass Path with the installation of steps and handrails. See Mass Steps Project

The Old Font From The Rye   by Conor O'Brien

I am the old font from the Rye 

My age three hundred years

I've seen so many come and go,

In joy and bitter tears.

I've been around since penal times,

When people were so poor,

And yet they came to worship

From Confey and the Moor.

From Barnhall and Rinawade,

And lovely Allensgrove,

They came on foot to sing and pray,

No horse or gig they drove.

Most feet were bare - yet, some were shod,

Brogues donned upon the way,

And breeches patched as Sunday best,

And shawls of black and grey. 

Men from the mills, toil worn limbs,

Dipped in the rugged hand,

With women weak from meagre meals,

And working on the land. 

Memories of the Risings,

Famine fever too,

Pennies for O'Connell - hard times,

But yet so true.

True to the old religion,

True to the old ideals,

How things have changed in present times,

How strange an old font feels.

Fearful for the future,

Yet proud of hard times past,

O god, the old font prays,

May the old ideals last.