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Implore His counsel an' assisting might ; They never sought in vain that sought the Lord
But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek; With heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak; Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake.
Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben, A strappan youth, he takes the mother's eye; Blythe Jenny sees the visit's not ill ta'en; The father cracks of horses, pleughs and kye. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy,
But, blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave; The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy
What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave; Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave.
The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face They round the ingle form a circle wide; The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace The big ha' bible, ance his father's pride; His bonnet reverently is laid aside,
His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care,
And 'Let us worship God!' he says, with solemn air.
They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name; Or noble Elgin bears the heavenward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : Compared with these, Italian trills are tame;
The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise, Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, prophetic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre,
Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How he, who bore in heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay his head;
How his first followers and servants sped;
Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
Then, kneeling down, to heaven's eternal King The saint, the father, and the husband prays;
Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing,' That thus they all shall meet in future days; There ever bask in uncreated rays,
No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear,
While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Then homeward all take off their several way, The youngling cottagers retire to rest;
The parent pair their secret homage pay, And proffer up to Heaven the warm request That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest, And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide ; But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside.
HYMN OF A HERMIT,
THOU, Lord! who rear'st the mountains' height,
Oh grant that I may own thy hand
With forests huge of dateless time
While clouds to clouds through ages call,
Reflects thy ordered world to view.
In all the immense, the strange, the old,
In all the little, weak, and mean,
By faith be thou as clearly seen.
Teach, Thou! that not a leaf can grow
That not a speck of dust can be,
Instruct my soul, by shows distraught,
Inspire me, Thou, in every glance
In every human word and deed,
So smallest bubbles here on earth
So best we learn what light sublime