The author is Murdoch Albanach. [278]
’Tis time for me to go to the house of Paradise, While this wound’s not easily borne, Let me win this house, famous, faultless, While others can tell of us nought else. Confess thyself now to the priest, Remember clearly all thy sins; Carry not to the house of the spotless King, Aught that may thee expose to charge. Conceal not any of thy sins, However hateful its evil to tell; Confess what has been done in secret, Lest thou expose thyself to wrath. Make thy peace now with the clergy, That thou may’st be safe as to thy state; Give up thy sin, deeply repent, Lest its guilt be found in thee. Woe to him forsook the Great King’s house, For love of sin, sad is the deed; The sin a man commits in secret, Much is the debt his sin incurs. This is a sermon for Adam’s race, I think I’ve nothing said that’s false, Though men may death for a time avoid, ’Tis true they can’t at length escape. Thou who hast purchased Adam’s race, Their blood, their body, and their heart, The things we cherish may’st thou assail, However we may them pursue. ’Tis time.
The above Murdoch.
That there should be in God’s Son’s heart A sinner like me, how great the tale, And that there should to me be given, On my lips to have the cross of Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ, sanctify as thou art wont, My two feet, and my two hands, Sanctify me of thy good will, Even my blood, and flesh, and bones. I never cease committing sin, Because that my body loves it well; May consecration come from afar, Upon my head and on my heart. Glorious great One, save thou me From every grief which me has seized, Ere I’m laid beneath the turf, May my way be plain and smooth. That.
The author of this is Murdoch Albanach.
Thou Trinity, do thou me teach, Thou Lord, whose praise all men must sing, Thou Trinity, come on my tongue, Bless it in thy judgment great. Holy Trinity in the heavens, Strengthen thou my spiritual arms; Come to, and dwell in my heart, Thou head of all thy holy race. Guide thou my hand, and teach my heart, Teach my eye, thou King of truth; Come to my voice, move on my tongue, Quicken my ear, and bless my lips. This is the mouth which ye have torn, Which checks men’s conflicts, nought forgets; This is the tongue that ne’er spared speech, Bless it, Beloved of my soul. From thee, O Trinity, alas! O Trinity, Let healing come, speak thou to me; There is, as in the white-wood oak, In me a sinful, corrupt heart. Though sinful, I never man destroyed, Ne’er did I steal, O Son of God; Never did my hand slay man, For Mary’s love, answer thou me. ’Tis true, I’ve made lying refuges, Deceived by lies of men of fame, Building on others’ lie my lie, O King, shall I in this succeed? Thou who in me prayer begett’st, ’Tis no sin to follow thee; ’Twas neither righteous men nor great, But God a refuge found for me. No man in this world can me teach, But only thou, O Lord, alone, None keepeth truth but heaven’s King, To His wisdom none is like, If I am in the way of truth, My tonsure vow requires it all; If, O Trinity, on a lie I rest, Lead me to the way of truth. Earth or clay shall not me cover, But waves of judgment, little the wrath, Nothing else shall be to hide me, But, O King, burning red-flamed fire. Trinity, thou mad’st this world, Both of fire and of earth; Of earth and fire all men are made, So at the end it will be found.
GENEALOGY OF THE MACGREGORS.
John son of Patrick, son of Malcom, son of John the black, son of John, son of Gregor, son of John, son of Malcom, son of Duncan the little, son of Duncan from Srulee, son of Gilelan, son of Hugh of Urchy, son of Kenneth, son of Alpin; and this Kenneth was head king of Scotland, in truth, at that time; and this John is the eleventh man from Kenneth, of whom I spoke.—And Duncan the servitor, son of Dougal, son of John the grizzled, wrote this from the books of the genealogists of the kings; and it was done in the year of our Lord One thousand five hundred and twelve.