“Affliction hath me sore oppressed,
Brought me to death in time;
O Lord, as thou hast promised
Let me to life return.
“How blest is he who is prepared,
Who fears not at his death;
Love fills his heart, and hope his breast,
With joy he yields his breath.
“Vain world, farewell! I must begone,
I cannot longer stay;
My time is spent, my glass is run,
God’s will I must obey.
“For when that Christ to judgment comes,
He unto us will say,
If we his laws observe and keep,
‘Ye blessed, come away!’”
A friend of mine wrote to Blackmore respecting the harvest-song in Lorna Doone (chapter xxix.), being under the impression that it might be a true farmhouse ditty such as were common until a comparatively recent date. The romancer, however, admitted that the composition was his own.
CHAPTER XII
ROUND DUNKERY
West of Lee Abbey and Duty Point lies much that is interesting, but this is also true of the country to the east of Lynton. For the moment we mount the coach with the intention of making a circuitous return to Dulverton. The writer does not forget his first experience of North Devon coaching. The placards showed four noble steeds, full of fettle and the joy of life; but “galled jades” would better have described the aspect of the miserable brutes condemned to drag the trunk-laden vehicle up those frightful ascents. Once on the summit, however, the going was easy, and passengers resumed their seats with a safe conscience, so far as cruelty to animals was concerned.