WILLIAM M. HETHERINGTON, D.D., LL.D.
An accomplished theologian and historical writer, William Hetherington was born on the Galloway side of the valley of the Nith, about the year 1805. With an average education at the parish school, he entered the University of Edinburgh, where he speedily acquired distinction. Amidst studies of a severer nature, he found relaxation in the composition of verses, celebrating the national manners and the interesting scenes of his nativity. These appeared in 1829, in a duodecimo volume, entitled, "Twelve Dramatic Sketches, founded on the Pastoral Poetry of Scotland." Having obtained licence as a probationer of the Established Church, he was in 1836 ordained to the ministerial charge of the parish of Torphichen in the Presbytery of Linlithgow. He joined the Free Church in 1843, and was afterwards translated to St Andrews. In 1848 he became minister of Free St Paul's Church, Edinburgh.
Besides his poetical work, Dr Hetherington has published, "The Fulness of Time," "History of the Church of Scotland," "The Minister's Family," and several separate lectures on different subjects. He was, during the first four years of its existence, editor of the Free Church Magazine. Formerly a frequent contributor to the more esteemed religious periodicals, he has latterly written chiefly for the British and Foreign Evangelical Review.
'TIS SWEET WI' BLITHESOME HEART TO STRAY.
'Tis sweet wi' blithesome heart to stray,
In the blushing dawn o' infant day;
But sweeter than dewy morn can be,
Is an hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee;
An hour wi' thee, an hour wi' thee,
An hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee;
The half o' my life I 'd gladly gie
For an hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee.
The garish sun has sunk to rest;
The star o' gloaming gilds the west;
The gentle moon comes smiling on,
And her veil o'er the silent earth is thrown:
Then come, sweet maid, oh, come wi' me!
The whispering night-breeze calls on thee;
Oh, come and roam o'er the lily lea,
An hour i' the mild moonlight wi' me.
For wealth let warldlings cark and moil,
Let pride for empty honours toil,
I 'd a' their wealth and honours gie
For ae sweet hour, dear maid, wi' thee.
An hour wi' thee, an hour wi' thee,
An hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee;
Earth's stores and titles a' I 'd gie
For an hour i' the mild moonlight wi' thee.