THE OLD SCOTTISH MINISTER.
A man he was of Scottish race,
And ancient Scottish name;
Of common mould, but lofty mien,
That dignified his frame.
And he lived a humble, quiet life,
Obscure, unknown to fame;
God's glory and the good of man
His constant, only aim:
Like a fine old Scottish minister,
All of the olden time.
He dearly loved his gentle wife,
As everyone could tell;
And watched his children as they grew,
Lest any ill befell;
And as he looked upon his boys
His bosom oft would swell;
For he reared them in the fear of God,
And ruled his household well:
Like a true old Scottish minister,
All of the olden time.
A father, too, he was to all
His congregation there:
To all he felt a father's love,
And showed a father's care:
He wisely counselled them with speech,
And pled for them in prayer;
And ever for the needy ones
He something had to spare:
Like a kind old Scottish minister,
All of the olden time.
The servant of the Lord he was,
In hovel and in hall,—
The high ambassador of heaven
Whom earth could not enthrall;
Like Christ among the wedding guests,
Or by the funeral pall;
And he made his daily life sublime,
A pattern unto all:
Like a grand old Scottish minister,
All of the olden time.
For truth and righteousness and love
His voice was ever heard;
And minds were kindled into thought,
And consciences were stirred,
And weary, heavy-laden hearts
To faith and hope were spurred,
As from the pulpit he proclaimed
The everlasting Word:
Like a faithful Scottish minister,
All of the olden time.
And when, amid his elders grave,
Extended in a line
Beside the table of the Lord,
He kept the rite divine,
His face with a rapt, unearthly look
Was seen to strangely shine,
As he broke the white, symbolic bread,
And passed the sacred wine:
Like a saintly Scottish minister,
All of the olden time.
His lot was hard, his task severe;
He found the burden light:
When darkly o'er his pathway hung
The shadows of the night,
His heart was steadfast, for he walked
By faith, and not by sight;
And ran triumphantly his course,
And fought a goodly fight:
Like a brave old Scottish minister,
All of the olden time.
And when upon a summer's day
He laid him down to die,
He called his household to his side
Without a moan or sigh,
And blessed his children each in turn,
And said a fond good-bye,
And then consigned his soul to God,
And went to live on high:
Like a good old Scottish minister,
All of the olden time.