His little wood-fire, burning bonnily,
His clean hearth-stone, his thrifty wife's glad smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee,
Do all his weary, anxious cares beguile ;
And make him quite forget his labour and his toil.
Soon the elder children come dropping in,
At service out, among the farmers round; Some drive the plough, some tend the flocks, or run A clever errand to a neighb'ring town: Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
In youthful bloom, health sparkling in her eye,
Comes home, perhaps, to show her bran new gown;
Or else to lay her hard-earn'd penny by,
To help her parents dear, if they in hardship lie.
With joy unfeign'd, brothers and sisters meet;
In all their words and looks, kind love appears ;
The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed fleet;
Each tells the new things that he sees or hears,
The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years;
Anticipation forward points the view.
The mother, with her needle and her shears,
Makes old clothes look almost as well as new ;
The father mixes all with admonition due.
Their master's and their mistress's command,
The younkers all are warned to obey;
And mind their labours with a careful hand,
And ne'er, though out of sight, loiter or play; "And O! be sure to fear the Lord alway!
And mind your duty, duly, morn and night! Lest in Temptation's paths ye go astray, Implore his counsel, and assisting might:
They never sought in vain, that sought the Lord aright!"
But now the supper crowns their simple board,
The wholesome porridge, chief of Scotland's food: The milk their only cow does well afford,
That near the cottage peaceful chews her cud : The dame brings forth in complimental mood,
To grace the night, the cheese she would not sell ; And oft they praise, and oft they call it good;
The frugal housewife talkative will tell,
How 'twas a twelvemonth old, since flax was in the bell.
The cheerful supper done, with serious face,
They, round the embers, form a circle wide :
The sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace,
The large old Bible, once his father's pride:
His hat is reverently laid aside,
And his hoary locks are seen, thin and bare.
From strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
He takes a portion with judicious care;
And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn air.
Then the good father reads the Sacred page :
How Abram was the friend of God on high;
Or, Moses bade perpetual warfare wage
With Amalek's ungracious progeny ;
Or how the royal bard* did groaning lie
Beneath the stroke of Heav'n's avenging ire;
Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry;
Or sweet Isaiah's bold, seraphic fire;
Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Duties of the morning.
SEE the time for sleep has run:
Rise before or with the sun.
Lift thy hands, and humbly pray,
The Fountain of eternal day,
That his sacred Spirit may rest,
With quick'ning beams, upon thy breast;
And kindly cleanse it all within.
From the dark blemishes of sin.
See the day, that dawns in air,
Brings along its toil and care.
Prepare to meet them in a mind,
That bows submissively resign'd;
That would to works appointed fall;
That knows that God has order'd all,
And whether, with a small repast,
We break the sober morning fast;
Or in our thoughts and houses, lay
The future methods of the day;
Or early walk abroad to meet
Our business with industrious feet:
Whate'er we think, whate'er we do,
His glory still be kept in view.
O, Giver of eternal bliss,
Heav'nly Father, grant me this!
Grant it all, as well as me,
All whose hearts are fix'd on thee;
Who revere thy Son above;
Who thy sacred Spirit love!
Father's address to his children.
SEE the lark prunes his active wings,
Rises to heav'n, and soars, and sings!
His morning hymns, his mid-day lays,
Are one continued song of praise :
He speaks his Maker all he can,
And shames the silent tongue of man.
When the declining orb of light,
Reminds him of approaching night,
His warbling vespers swell his breast ;
And as he sings, he sinks to rest.
Shall birds instructive lessons teach,
And we be deaf to what they preach?
No, ye dear nestlings of my heart :
Go, act the wiser songster's part.
Spurn your warm bed at early dawn;
And with your GOD, begin the morn.
To him your grateful tribute pay,
Through ev'ry period of the day.
To him your ev'ning songs direct;
His
eye shall watch, his arm protect: Though darkness reigns, he's with you still; Then sleep, my babes, and fear no ill.
Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son,
The ills that I this day have done;
That with the world, myself, and thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.
Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed
Teach me to die, that so I may
Triumphant rise at the last day.
O! may my soul on Thee repose:
And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close;
Sleep, that may me more lively make,
To serve my God, when I awake.
When in the night I sleepless lie,
My soul with heav'nly thoughts supply:
Let no ill dreams disturb my rest,
No pow'rs of darkness me molest.
Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise him, all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heav'nly host:
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
THIS is the day, the Lord of life
Ascended to the skies s;
My thoughts, pursue the lofty theme,
And to high Heav'n arise.
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