O SCOTLAND! bonnie Scotland! ’twas hard from thee to part,
And love of thee has still a niche within my weary heart.
I knew not that I loved thee so, till borne out far to sea,
Nor dreamt I that this western world had charms so few for me.
O Scotland! lovely Scotland! the land of moor and glen,
The country of the covenants, and godly hearted men!
Forsaking thy immunities to western wilds I’ve come,
Yet felt my heart, like magnet true, still point to thee as home.
I’m weary of this wilderness, this land of stumps and trees,
The endless uniformity that’s marked on all one sees;
There’s nothing in the scenery here a poet’s soul to charm,
And no heroic memories to nerve a patriot’s arm.
There’s cleaving to the dust enough, there’s grovelling for gain,
And sordid love of earthly things our minds and hearts enchain.
I feel my heart less heavenly, less than it used to be,
And wonder if the cause is in the country or in me.
I cannot see with tearless eye the godlessness of youth,
Nor hear denied with blushless face the claims of heavenly truth,
Without the fear that sad, sad days will settle on the scene,
And those that have their light from God be few and far between.
I relish ill the croaking here of frogs on every hand,
But worse by far the mystic croak of spirits through the land.
The seeds of infidelity I fear are widely sown,
And the mystic beast in Patmos seen to mighty power has grown.
I cannot see that God is pledged to save from error’s chain
A land that ne’er was pledged to Him, nor owned Messiah’s reign,
And sadly fear that God may yet His sword of vengeance draw
Against the land that boldly frames iniquity by law.
O brave heroic Scotland! land of the true and good!
The battlefield of liberty, oft wet with patriot blood!
Thou hast a sacred spell for me ‘yond other lands I’ve trod,
Because thou hast been sanctified by covenant with God.
Yes Scotland! favoured Scotland! to thee a pledge is given,
Proclaimed by martyr’s prophet lips, just on the verge of heaven,
Inspiring hope that larger grace is still in store for thee,
“The Covenants yet! the Covenants yet! shall thy reviving be.”
O may the lot be mine once more my native land to view,
And share the blessed effusion of a copious heavenly dew,
When the spirit of the Covenants shall temper modern things,
And teach bewildered nations that Messiah’s King of Kings.
ROBERT BRYDEN.*
Waterloo, Ontario.
* A native of Selkirkshire, one of whose ancestors is said to have carried the Scottish flag at the battle of Flodden. The above poem was written some years ago, and appeared in a home paper.
WE sail to glory, not in the salt sea of our tears, but in the red sea of Christ’s precious blood.— Dr. Thomas Goodwin.
A SANCTIFIED heart is better than a silver tongue.— Dr. Thomas Goodwin.