If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun;
As something, loudly, in my breast
Remonstrates I have done :
Thou know'st that Thou hast forméd me
With passions wild and strong;
And listening to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.
Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,
Do Thou, All-Good! for such Thou art,
In shades of darkness hide.
Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,
But, Thou art good; and goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.
STANZAS ON THE SAME OCCASION.
WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
Have I so found it full of pleasing charms?
Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between;
Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms.
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms;
Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?
For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms;
I tremble to approach an angry God,
And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.
Fain would I say, Forgive my foul offence!
Fain promise never more to disobey;
But should my Author health again dispense,
Again I might desert fair virtue's way;
Again in folly's path might go astray;
Again exalt the brute and sink the man;
Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray,
Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan?
Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran?
O Thou, great Governor of all below!
If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee,
Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow,
Ör still the tumult of the raging sea;
With that controlling power assist even me,
Those headlong furious passions to confine,
For all unfit I feel my powers to be,
To rule their torrent in th' allowéd line;
Oh, aid me with thy help, Omnipotence Divine!
THE FIRST PSALM.
THE man in life, wherever placed,
Hath happiness in store,
Who walks not in the wicked's way,
Nor learns their guilty lore!
Nor from the seat of scornful pride
Casts forth his eyes abroad,
But with humility and awe
Still walks before his God.
That man shall flourish like the trees
Which by the streamlets grow;
The fruitful top is spread on high,
And firm the root below.
But he whose blossom buds in guilt,
Shall to the ground be cast,
And, like the rootless stubble, tost
Before the sweeping blast.
For why? That God, the good adore,
Hath given them peace and rest,
But hath decreed that wicked men
Shall ne'er be truly blest.
THE FIRST SIX VERSES OF THE 90TH PSALM.
O THOU, the first, the greatest Friend
Of all the human race!
Whose strong right hand has ever been
Their stay and dwelling-place!
Before the mountains heaved their heads
Beneath thy forming hand,
Before this ponderous globe itself
Arose at thy command:
That Power which raised and still upholds
This universal frame,
From countless, unbeginning time
Was ever still the same.
Those mighty periods of years
Which seem to us so vast, Appear no more before thy sight Than yesterday that's past.
Thou giv'st the word: thy creature, man,
Is to existence brought:
Again, thou sayest, "Ye sons of men,
Return ye into naught!"
Thou layest them, with all their cares,
In everlasting sleep:
As with a flood thou tak'st them off
With overwhelming sweep.
They flourish like the morning flower,
In beauty's pride array'd;
But long ere night cut down it lies
All wither'd and decay'd.
A GRACE BEFORE DINNER.
THOU, who kindly dost provide
For every creature's want!
We bless thee, God of Nature wide,
For all thy goodness lent:
And, if it please thee, heavenly Guide,
May never worse be sent;
But whether granted or denied,
Lord, bless us with content.-Amen.
Written in Friar's-Carse Hermitage on Nith-side.
THOU whom chance may hither lead,
Be thou clad in russet weed,
Be thou deck'd in silken stole,
Grave these counsels on thy soul!-
Life is but a day at most,
Sprung from night, in darkness lost;
Hope not sunshine every hour,
Fear not clouds will always lower.
As youth and love with sprightly dance,
Beneath thy morning-star advance,
Pleasure, with her syren air,
May delude the thoughtless pair;
Let prudence bless enjoyment's cup,
Then raptured sip, and sip it up.
As thy day grows warm and high,
Life's meridian flaming nigh,
Dost thou spurn the humble vale?
Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale?
Check thy climbing step, elate.
Evils lurk in felon wait;
Dangers, eagle-pinion'd, bold
Soar around each cliffy hold;
While cheerful peace, with linnet song,
Chants the lowly dells among.1
As the shades of evening close,
Beckoning thee to long repose;
As life itself becomes disease,
Seek the chimney-neuk of ease;
There, ruminate with sober thought,
On all thou 'st seen, and heard, and wrought;
And teach the sportive younkers round,
Saws of experience, sage and sound.
Say, "Man's true, genuine estimate,
The grand criterion of his fate,
Is not, Art thou high or low?
Did thy fortune ebb or flow?
Did many talents gild thy span?
1 See "Grongar Hill," a Poem by Dyer.
Or frugal nature grudge thee one?"
Tell them, and press it on their mind,
As thou thyself must shortly find,
The smile or frown of awful Heaven
To virtue or to vice is given.
Say, "To be just, and kind, and wise,
There solid self-enjoyment lies;
That foolish, selfish, faithless ways
Lead to the wretched, vile, and base."
Thus resign'd and quiet creep
To the bed of lasting sleep;
Sleep, whence thou shalt ne'er awake,
Night, where dawn shall never break,
Till future life-future no more,
To light, and joy, and good restore-
To light and joy unknown before!
Stranger, go! Heaven be thy guide!
Quoth the Beadsman of Nith-side.
WINTER.-A DIRGE
THE wintry west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw;
Or the stormy north sends driving forth
The blinding sleet and snaw:
While tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae;
And bird and beast in covert rest
And pass the heartless day.
"The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast," The joyless winter-day,
Let others fear, to me more dear
Than all the pride of May:
The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine!
Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil,
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