Hear how he clears the points o' faith
Wi' rattlin' an' wi' thumpin'....
He's stampin' an' he's jumpin!
His lengthen'd chin, his turn'd up snout,
His eldritch squeel and gestures,
Oh! how they fire the heart devout,
Like cantharidian plasters,
On sic a day!
But now the Lord's ain trumpet touts,
Till a' the hills are rairin'
An' echoes back return the shouts;
Black Russell is na spairin'.
His piercing words, like Highlan' swords,
Divide the joints an' marrow;
His talk o' Hell, whare devils dwell,
Our vera sauls does harrow
Wi' fright that day.
A vast unbottom'd boundless pit,
Fill'd fu' o' lowin' brunstane,
Wha's raging flame an' scorchin' heat,
Wad melt the hardest whun-stane.
The half asleep start up wi' fear,
An' think they hear it roarin',
When presently it does appear
'Twas but some neibor snorin'
Asleep that day.
How monie hearts this day converts
O' sinners and o' lasses!
Their hearts o' stane, gin night, are gane,
As saft as ony flesh is.
There's some are fou o' love divine,
There's some are fou o' brandy.
An honest man may like a glass,
An honest man may like a lass,
But mean revenge and malice fausse
He'll still disdain;
And then cry zeal for Gospel laws
Like some we ken....
.... I rather would be
An atheist clean,
Than under Gospel colours hid be
Just for a screen.
[218]: The Jolly Beggars.