Prayers Written at Vailima | Page 7

an' there
Their hirplin'

practice an' their creed
Try hard to square.
XIII
It's here our Merren lang has lain,
A wee bewast the table-stane;

An' yon's the grave o' Sandy Blane;
An' further ower,
The mither's
brithers, dacent men!
Lie a' the fower.
XIV
Here the guidman sall bide awee
To dwall amang the deid; to see

Auld faces clear in fancy's e'e;
Belike to hear
Auld voices fa'in saft
an' slee
On fancy's ear.
XV
Thus, on the day o' solemn things,
The bell that in the steeple swings

To fauld a scaittered faim'ly rings
Its walcome screed;
An' just a
wee thing nearer brings
The quick an' deid.
XVI
But noo the bell is ringin' in;
To tak their places, folk begin;
The
minister himsel' will shune
Be up the gate,
Filled fu' wi' clavers
about sin
An' man's estate.
XVII
The tunes are up - FRENCH, to be shure,
The faithfu' FRENCH, an'
twa-three mair;
The auld prezentor, hoastin' sair,
Wales out the
portions,
An' yirks the tune into the air
Wi' queer contortions.
XVIII
Follows the prayer, the readin' next,
An' than the fisslin' for the text -

The twa-three last to find it, vext
But kind o' proud;
An' than the

peppermints are raxed,
An' southernwood.
XIX
For noo's the time whan pows are seen
Nid-noddin' like a mandareen;

When tenty mithers stap a preen
In sleepin' weans;
An' nearly
half the parochine
Forget their pains.
XX
There's just a waukrif' twa or three:
Thrawn commentautors sweer to
`gree,
Weans glowrin' at the bumlin' bee
On windie-glasses,
Or
lads that tak a keek a-glee
At sonsie lasses.
XXI
Himsel', meanwhile, frae whaur he cocks
An' bobs belaw the
soundin'-box,
The treesures of his words unlocks
Wi' prodigality,

An' deals some unco dingin' knocks
To infidality.
XXII
Wi' snappy unction, hoo he burkes
The hopes o' men that trust in
works,
Expounds the fau'ts o' ither kirks,
An' shaws the best o' them

No muckle better than mere Turks,
When a's confessed o' them.
XXIII
Bethankit! what a bonny creed!
What mair would ony Christian need?
-
The braw words rumm'le ower his heid,
Nor steer the sleeper;

And in their restin' graves, the deid
Sleep aye the deeper.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
It may be guessed by some that I had a certain parish in my eye, and
this makes it proper I should add a word of disclamation. In my time
there have been two ministers in that parish. Of the first I have a special

reason to speak well, even had there been any to think ill. The second I
have often met in private and long (in the due phrase) "sat under" in his
church, and neither here nor there have I heard an unkind or ugly word
upon his lips. The preacher of the text had thus no original in that
particular parish; but when I was a boy he might have been observed in
many others; he was then (like the schoolmaster) abroad; and by recent
advices, it would seem he has not yet entirely disappeared.
End of the Project Gutenberg eText A Lowden Sabbath Morn
End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Vailima Prayers & Sabbath
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