His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily, At service out, amang the farmers roun'; His clane hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentic smile, rin Or deposite her sair-worn penny-fee, Wi' joy unfeigned brothers and sisters meet, Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears; The mother, wi' her needle and her shears, Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new; The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. Their master's an' their mistress's command, "An' oh, be sure to fear the Lord alway, But hark! a rap comes gently to the door; To do some errands, and convoy her hame. name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak; Wi, kindly welcome, Jenny brings him ben; A strappan youth; he takes the mother's eye; Blithe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta' en; The father cracks o' horses, pleughs, and kye. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, O happy love! where love like this is found! ure spare One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale!" Is there, in human form, that bears a heart, Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled? But now the supper crowns their simple board, The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food; The soupe their only hawkie does afford, That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood. The dame brings forth in complimental mood, To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck An' aft he's pressed, an' aft he ca's it guid; The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face But, blate and laithful, scarce can weel be- He wales a portion with judicious care, have; The woman, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave; Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave. And, "Let us worship God," he says, with solemn air. They chant their artless notes in simple guise; aim; Or noble "Elgin" beats the heavenward The priest-like father reads the sacred page, flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays; How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage vent The saint, the father, and the husband prays; And oh, may Heaven their simple lives pre- No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride, In all the pomp of method, and of art, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; And in his book of life the inmates poor enroll. Then homeward all take off their several way; 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. From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much loved isle ! O Thou! who poured the patriotic tide That streamed throngh Wallace's undaunted heart, Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, A ROBERT BURNS. HYMN: "ABIDE WITH ME." When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word; From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur But as thou dwell'st with thy disciples, Lord, springs, That makes her loved at home, revered abroad; Princes and lords are but the work of kings; “An honest man's the noblest work of God;" And, certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind; What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, tudied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined. O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! Familiar, condescending, patient, free, Come not in terrors as the King of kings, Come, Friend of sinners, thus abide with me! Thou on my head in early youth didst smile, And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile, Thou hast not left me, oft as I left thee. |