Others
Gospel Sonnets
28th Jun 2016Posted in: Others, Post-Confederation, Uncategorized 0

DUANAGAN SOISGEULACH.

GOSPEL SONNETS
BEING
TRANSLATED INTO GAELIC
WITH THE
ENGLISH ORIGINALS.
By REV. D. B. BLAIR.

1881:
S.M, MACKENZIE, BOOK AND JOB PRINTER,
NEW GLASGOW, N.S.
[unnumbered page]

Rock of Ages.

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee;
Let the water and the blood,
From thy riven side which flow’d 
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse from its guilt and power.

Not the labours of my hands
Can fulfil thy law’s demands;
Could my real no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone;
Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring;
Simply to thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to thee for grace;
Foul I to the fountain fly;
Wash me, Saviour, or I die!

While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyelids close in death,
When I soar through tracts unknown,
See Thee on thy judgment throne;
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee!

The Fountain Opened.—Zechariah XII, I.

There is a fountain open’d wide,
   An I fill’d with water pure,
For all uncleanness, and of sin
   To be the double cure.

The streams which issued from the wound
   Of Jesus on the cross
Shall take away the guilt of sin,
   And all its filth and dross.

The Sacred Fountain ever will
   With living waters flow,
Where sinners wash their scarlet sins
   And make them white as snow.

These David’s house will cleanse their souls
   From ev’ry stain of sin,
Jerusalem’s inhabitants
   Shall wash themselves therein.

The fountain is for ever full
   Of purifying grace
For all the nations of the world,
   And men of ev’ry race.

The vilest sinners are made pure
   Of ev’ry tongue and tribe;
Give glory to the Lamb of God
   And praise to him ascribe. [page 4]

Carraig nan Al.

Charraig bhuan nan al bho chein,
Annad folaicheam mi fein!
Leis an uispe’s leis an fhuil
Bho do thaobh-sa shil mar thuil,
Ciorìt’ a’ pheacaidh dubh a mach,
Glan mo thruaillidheachd a steach.

Cha dean saothair mod ha laimh
Umhlachd thoirt do d’lagh gu brath;
Ged bhiodh m’eud ro dhian gach la,
Ged a shileadh deoir gun tamh,
Sud cha diol mo chionta chaoidh,
’S tusa mhain a shaoras mi.

duais am laimh cha toirear leam
Crann a’ cheusaidh glacam teann;
Lomnochd, thoi dhomh trusgan nuadh;
Lag, ach cum le d’ ghras mi suas’
Neo-ghlan, anns an tobar aigh
Glan mi’ Chriosd, no gheibh mi Las.

Feadh bhios anail ann am chre;
Nuair thig orm-sa suain an eig;
Nuair a thogar mise suas
Gu do chaithir bhreith nach gluais;
Charraig bhuan nan al bho chein,
Annad folaicheam mi fein!

An Tobar Fosgailte.—Zechar, XII, I.

Chaidh tobar fhosgladh a ta lan
   De dh-uisge fallain fuar,
Air son gach salchar agus lochd
   A gblanadh buileach bhuainn.

An fhuil’s an t-uisge shruth a mach
   Bho’n lot fhuair Criosd ’nathaobh,
Bheir sin air falbh ar n-uile chiont’
   ’S ar truaillidheachd mhi-naouih.

Tha’n tobar naomh a ’ruith gun sgur
   Le uisge fiorghlan beo,
Ni sin ar peacadh dearg cho geal
   Ri sneachd air beinn a ’cheo.

Tigh Dhaibhidh glanar leis gu tur
   Bho’m peacannaibh gu leir;
Luchd aiteachaidh Jerusaleim
   Leis ionnlaididh iad fein.

Tha ’n tobar so gu siorruidh lan
   De dh-fheartan glanaidh treun
Air son gach neach de’u chinne-daonn’,
   ’S gach fine ta fo’n ghrein.

Na daoine ’s truaillidh nithear naomh
   Am measg gach treubh us dream;
Do dh-Uan De thugaibh gloir gu brath,
   Us cliu air feadh gach am. [page 5]

The Brazen Serpent.—John III, 14, 15.

As Moses lifted on a pole
   The brazen serpant high;
So Christ was lifted on the cross
   That sinners may not die.

The people stung by serpents look’d,
   The look did life restore;
So they who look to Christ with faith
   Shall live forever more.

He’s now exalted on his throne
   That he may pardon give;
And sinners by the Dragon stung
   May look to him and live.

For God so lov’d the sons of men,
   He gave his Son to die,
That all who may believe in him
   Shall live eternally.

God sent his Son into the world
   Not to condemn our race,
But to redeem and set them free
   And save them by his grace.

That man is justified whose faith
   Upon the Son relies;
But unbelievers are condemn’d 
   Because they him despise.

The Friend Above all Others.

One there is above all others,
   Oh, how he loves!
His is love beyond a brother’s,—
   Oh, how he loves!
Earthly friends may fail or leave us;
One day soothe, the next day grieve us;
But this Friend will ne’er deceive us,—
   Oh, how he loves!

’Tis eternal life to know him,
   Oh, how he loves!
Think, O think how much we owe him,
   Oh, how he loves!
With his precious blood he bought us,
In the wilderness he sought us;
To his fold he safely brought us;
   Oh, how he loves!

We have found a friend in Jesus—
   Oh, how he loves!
’Tis his great delight to bless us!
   Oh, how he loves!
How our hearts delight to hear him
Bid us dwell in safety near him;
Wy should we distrust or fear him—
   Oh, how he loves!

Through his name we are forgiven—
   Oh, how he loves!
Backward all our foes are driven—
   Oh, how he loves!
Best of blessings he’ll provide us
Nought but good shall e’er betide us
Safe to glory he will guide us
   Oh, how he loves! [page 6]

An Nathair Umha.—Eoin III: 14-15

Mar thogadh suns an nathair phrais
   Le Maois san thasneh chruaidh;
Chaidh Criosd a thogail air a chrann
   Mar sin an ait an t-sluaigh.

An dream a iot an nathair dheare,
   Us chaidh iad as o’n bhas;
Mar sin na shealias suas ri Criosd
   Bidh iadsan beo gu brath.

Nis tha e ardaiehte mar Righ
   Gu roaitheanas thiert duinu;
Na let an Dragon seailadh ris
   Us mairidh beo gach lina.

Oir ghradhaich Dia an cinne-daonn’
   Us thug e Mac a gheaidh,
A chum gach nench a chreideas ann
   Nach sgriosar e gu brath.

Cha-n ann a dhiteadh chiann nan daoin’
   Chuir Dia an t-Ann-ghin uaith,
Ach’s ann a chum an deanamh _oar
   ’S an tearnadh as gach truaigh.

An ti a chreideas ann gu fior
   Cha ditear e am feasd;
Ach ditear mi chreidmhich gu leir
   Nach tabhair geill d’a reachd.

An Caraid os Ceann Gach Caraid.

Caraid tha os ceann gach caraid,
   O! ’s mor a ghradh!
Air gach gaol a ghaol hug barrachd,
   O! mor a ghraidh
Faodaidh cairdean feola geilleadh;
Uair ’gar pogadh ’s uair ’gar leireadh;
Ach an caraid so cha treig sinn,—
   O! ’s mor a ghradh!

Eolas air is beatha shiorraidh,
   O! ’s mor a ghradh!
Chuir e eomain oirnn nach diol sinn,
   O! ’s mor a ghradh!
Le fhuil eheannaich e bho’n bhas sinn;
Shir e mach sinn feadh an thasaich;
Thug e dnachaidh sinn gu sabhailt;
   O! ’s mor a ghradh!

Ann an Josa fhuair sinn caraid,—
      O! ’s mor a ghradh!
Is faitueach leis gum bi sinn, beannaicht’,—
   O! ’s mor a ghradh!
Is mor ar solas nuair a their e,
Gabhaibh comhnuidh leam gun deireas;
Carson nach earb sina ris gun cagal?
   O! ’s mor a ghradh!

Gheibh sinn maitheanas tre ainm-san,
   O! ’s mor a ghradh!
Fograidh e gach namh air falbh uainn;
   O! ’s mor a ghradh!
Bheir e sochairean na slainte,
Cha tig dad ach maith gu brath oirnn,
Treoirichidh e sinn gu Parras:
   O! ’s mor a ghradh! [page 7]

Christ and the Little Ones.

“The Master has come over Jordan,”
  Said Hannah, the Mother, one day,
“He is healing the people who throng him
  With a touch of his finger they say,
And now I shall carry the children,
  Little Rachel and Samuel and John,
I shall carry the baby Esther,
  For the Lord to look upon.”
The father look’d at her kindly,
  But he shook his head and smil’d;
“Now who but a doated mother
  Would think of a thing so wild?
If the children were tortur’d by demons
  Or dying of fever,—’twere well;
Or had they the taint of the leper
  Like many in Israel.”
“Nay, do not hinder me, Nathan,
  I feel such a burden of care,—
If I carry it to the Master
  Perhaps I shall leave it there,
If he lay his hand on the children,
  My heart will be lighter I know;
For a blessing for ever and ever,
  Will follow them as they go.”
So over the hills of Judah,
  Along by the vine-rows green,
With Esther asleep on her bosom,
  And Rachel her brothers between;
’Mong the people who hung on his teaching
  Or waited his touch and his word,
Through the row of proud Pharisees list’ning
  She press’d to the feet of the Lord.
“Now why should’st thou hinder the Master,
  Said peter, “with children like these?
Seest not how from morning till ev’ning,
  He teacheth and healeth disease?”
Then Christ said, “Forbid not the children,
  Permit them to come unto me!”
And he took in his arms little Esther,
  And Rachel he set on his knee.
And the heavy heart of the mother
  Was lifted all earth-care above,
As he laid his hands on the brothers
  And bless’d them with tenderest love;
As he said of the babes in his bosom
  “Of such is the kingdom of heaven,”—
And strength for all duty and trial
  That hour to her spirit was given.

The Song of Simeon.—Luke II: 29-32.

Now Lord, according to thy Word,
  Let me depart in peace;
Mine eyes have thy salvation seen;
  Let all my sorrows cease.

This great salvation long ago
  By thee prepar’d of old,
Before all people now appears
  As in thy word was told.

A light to shine in ev’ry land
  On Gentiles far and near;
The glory of thing Israel,
Thy chosen people clear. [page 8]

Criosd agus a’ chlann bheag.

“Tha ’m Maighstir air tighinn thar Jordan,”
  Ars’ Hannah, an og-mheoirean ri’n taobh.
Nis bheir mi a’ chlann bheag air laimh Icam,
  Seadh Rachel, us Samuel us Eoin,
Us giulaineam Esther am Paisdean
  An lathair an t-Slanuigheir mhoir.”
An t-athair dhearc oirre le cairdeas,
  A cheann chrath us ghair e gu caoin;
“Co ach mathair dheothasach, mhuirneach,
  A smuainich air cuis tha cho faoin?
Nam biodh iad le deambain ’gam pianadh,
  No basach’ le fiabhrus,—bu cheart;
Le luibhre nam bitheadh iad breoite
  Mar mhoran an Israel gun neart.
“Ni h-eadh, ach _ut ro mise, Natain,
  Tha ’n curam ’gam sharuch’ _ut rom,—
Ma bheir mi e dh’ ionnsuidh a’ Mhaighstir,
  Ma dh’rhaoidte ’n sin fagar e learn,
Ma chuireas e ’lamh air na maothrain,
  Mo chridhe bidh aotrom gun cheisd;
Thig beannachd bho Ard-Righ na gloire
  A leanas ri ’m beo iad am feasd.”
’Nsin thairis air beanntainnean Judah,
  Feadh shreathan nan ur-chranna fion,
Le Ester ’na suain air a gairdean,
  A braithrean le Rachel bheag chrion;
Tre ’n t-sluagh a bha ’g eisdeachd r ’a Mhaighstir,”
  Thuirt Peadar/ le cloinn bhig mar so?
Nach faic thu bho mhaduin gu feasgar,
  E teagasg ’s a’leigheas nan lot?”
Thuirt Iosa “Na bacaibh an og-chlann;
  Ach leigibh leo dhomh-sa tigh’nn dluth!”
Ghrad-thog e’n sin Ester ’na ghairdean,
Us Rachel bheag chuir air a ghlun.
Chaidh cridhe trom tiamhaidh na mathar
  A thogail anaird thar gach leon,
Nuair chuir e a lamh air na braithrean
  ’S a bheannaich le gradh iad gum or;
Nuair thuirt e mu thimchioll nan naoidhean
A cridhe fhuair neart anns an uair sin
  Fa chomhair gach buairidh us feum.

Oran Shimeion.—Lucas II: 29-33.

Reir d’thocail leig a nis, a Thriath,
  Do d’ oglach trial an sith,
Oir chunnaic mi do shlainte mhor
  A bheir mo bhron gu crich.

Tha’ t-slainte so a dh’ ullaich thu
  San am a bh’ann o chein
A nise soilleur do gach sluagh,
  A reir do gheallaidh fein.

So Grian an aigh a shoillsicheas
  Na Cinnich anns gach tir,
Us gloir do phobuill Israeil,
  A roghnaich thug u fior. [page 9]

Missionary Hymn.

From Greenland’s icy mountains
   From India’s coral strand,
Where Afric’s sunny fountains
   Roll down their golden sand,
From many an ancient river
   From many a palmy plain
They call us to deliver
   Their land from error’s chain.

What though the spicy breezes
   Blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle;
Though every prospect pleases
   And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
   The gifts of God are strewn;
The heathen in his blindness
   Bows down to wood and stone.

Can we whose souls are lighted
   With wisdom from on high,
Can we to men benighted
   The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! O salvation!

   The joyful sound proclaim,
Till each remotest nation
   Has learnt Messiah’s name.

Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,
   And you, ye waters, roll,
Till like a sea of glory,
   It spreads from pole to pole;
Till o’er our ransom’d nature
   The Lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
   In bliss returns to reign.

Hold the Fort.

CHORUS.—“Hold the Fort, for I am coming” Jesus signals still
                     Wave the answer back to heaven “By thy grace we will.”

Ho! my comrades, see the signal
   Waving in the skye!
Re-inforcements now appearing,
   Victory is nigh!

See the mighty host advancing,
   Satan leading on;
Mighty men around us falling
   Courage almost gone!

See the glorious banner waving
   Hear the trumpet blow!
In our Leader’s name we’ll triumph
   Over every foe!

Fierce and long the battle rages,
   But our help is near;
Onward comes our great Commander,
   Cheer, my comrades- cheer!

Craobh-sgaoileadh an T-soisgeil.

O bheanntaibh deigh na Fuar-thir,
O bhruaich na h-Induis moir;
Bho Africa nam fuaran
Bho’n gluais a ghainneamh oir,
Bho iomad abhainn aosmhoir,
Bho raointibh nam pailm chrann,
Tha goirm again a shaoradh
Chlann daoin’ o mhearachd teann.

Ged sheideas gaoth nan spiosradh
   Thar Ceylon I nam buadh;
Ged tha gach sealladh riomhach
   Tha dhaoine millte truagh;
Tha tiodhlaic Dhe an diotuhain
   Gu lionmhor air gach taobh,
Na cinnich dhall tha striochdadh
   Do dhiathan chlach us chraobh.

Bhon thugadh solus iuil duinn
   Le gliocas ur a’ ghrais,
An lochran beath’ an diult sinn
   Do dhoill an dubhra bhais?
An t-slainte! O an t-slainte!
   An naidheachd aghmhor seirm,
Gun eluinn iad anns gach aite,
   Messiah ghraidh ’gan gairm.

Sgaoil, sgaoil, O ghaoth, a sgeula,
   A thuil ruith reis gu teann,
Gum hi e mar chuan eibhneis,
   Mu’n-che bho cheann gu ceann;
Gun tig an t-Dan a shaor sinn,
   Le fuil ro dhaor a chridh
’S gun dean gach neach dha aoradh
   Fear saoraidh, Cruithear, Righ.

Gleidh an Dun.

Co-sheirm. “Gleidh an Dun, oir tha mi tighinn,” so their Josa ’n tras;
                   Cuiribh fios air ais gu flaitheas, “Ni sinn sin le d’ ghras.”

Ho! mo chairdean faicibh bratach
   Crathadh os ar cionn,
Nis tha cuideachadh ri fhaicinn.
   Buaidh tha’m fagus duinn.—Co-sheirm.

Faicibh treun-fheachd oirnn a’teannadh,
   Satan air an ceann;
Gaisgich timchioll oirnn ’gan leagail,
   Misneach, lag us fann.—Co-sheirm.

Faicibh sgaoilt’ a’ bhratach loinnreach,
   Fuaim na trompaid cluinn,
Ann an ainm ar Ceannaird aghmhoir
   Theid gach namh fo’r cuing.—Co-sheirm.

Ged is fada, searbh, an cogadh,
   Cobhair thig gun dail,
Thig ar Ceannard Mor a chlisgeadh
   Biosh bhur misneach ard.—Co-sheirm. [page 11]

Jesus of Nazareth Passeth by.

What means this eager, anxious throng
Which moves with busy hast along?
These wondrous gathering day by day,
What means this strange commotion pray?
In accents hush’ the throng reply;
“Jesus of Nazareth passeth by”.

Who is this Jesus? why should He
The City move so mightily?
A passing stranger, has he skill
To move the multitude at will?
Again the stirring notes reply;
“Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.”

Jesus! tis he who once below
Man’s pathway trod mid pain and woe;
And burden’d ones where’r He came,
Brought out there sick and deaf and lane,
The blind rejoice to hear the cry;
“Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.”

Again He comes from place to place
His holy foot-prints we can trace,
He passeth at our threshold nay,
He enters condescends to stay,
Shall we not gladly raise the cry?—
“Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.”

Ho! all ye heavy-laden, come!
Here’s pardon—comfort, rest and home,
Ye Wanderers from a Father’s face,
Return, accept His proffered grace,
Ye tempted ones, there’s refuge nigh:
“Jesus of Nazareth passeth by.”

But if you still this call refuse,
And all his wondrous love abuse,
Soon will He sadly from you turn,
Your bitter prayer for pardon spurn,
“Too late, too late?” will be the cry—
“Jesus of Nazareth has passed by.”

Unbelievers.

Fools in their hearts believe and say,
   That all religion’s vain,
There is no God that reigns on high,
   Or minds the affairs of men.

From thoughts so dreadful and profane,
   Corrupt discourse proceeds;
And in their impious hands are found
   Abominable deeds.

Their tongues are used to speak deceit
   Their slander never cease;
How swift to mischief are their feet,
   Nor know the paths of peace.

Such seeds of sin (that bitter root)
   In all their hearts are found:
Nor can it bear diviner fruit,
   Till grace refine the ground. [page 12]

Iosa O Nasaret a’ Dol Seach.

Ciod e a’s ciall do’n deifir chruaidh?
Do’n iomgain mhoir so feadh an t-sluaigh?
Na tionail so bho la’ gu la’?
Carson tha’n iomair so gun tamh?
Le guth ciuin iosal their gach neach,
“Tha Ios’ o Nasaret dol seach.”

Co e an t-Iosa so? An aom
E’m baile mor gu leir maraon?
An coigreach so an aithne dha
An sluagh a ghluasad mar is aill?
Aris le h-ard ghuth their gach neach,
“Tha Ios’ o Nasaret dol seach.”

Iosa? bha trial a bhos aon uair.
Air sligbe dhaoine, bronach, truagh,
D’a iennsuidh thugadh leo ’nan teinn,
A’mhuinntir bhodhar, bhacach, thinn;
Na doill bha ait nuair ghlaodh gach neach
“Tha Ios’ o Nasaret dol search.”

Thig e a ris? A lorgan naomh
Chi sinn bho ait gu h-ait gach taobh;
A cheuman air an stairsnich cluinn,
Seadh,-tha e steach,-us fanaidh leinn;
Gu h-ait nach glaodh sinn uile mach?—
:Tha Ios’ o Nasaret dol seach.”

O? thigibh tha fo’r n eallaich sgith
Gu dachaidh, saorsa, fois us sith;
Us sibhse threig bhur n-Athair gaoil,
Thigibh us gabhaibh ghras gu saor:
Nuair bhuairear sibh so dion gach neach,
“Tha Ios’ o Nasaret dol seach”?

Ach fos a’ ghairm ma dhiultas sibh,
’S mi-bhuil d’a ghras ma nithear leibh,
Gu bronach pillidh unibh gun dail
Bhur n-urnuigh diuhaidh e la tair;
“Ro anmoch”! glaodhaidh sibh a mach,
“Tha Jos’ o Nasaret air dol seach”!

Ana Creidmhich.

Nan cridh’ their amadain gun ghras,
   A ta gach crabhadh faoin,
Cha-n ’eil ann Dia ’na Righ gu h-ard,
   No ’g amhare gnathan dhaoin’.

Bho smuain cho mi-naomh uamhasach.
   Tha comhradh truaillidh teachd;
Tha’n lamhan neo-ghlan aingidh lan
   Le grainealachd gu beachd.

An teangadh chleachd bhi mealladh chaich
   Cha sguir de chaineadh chaoidh;
Cia luath an cas chum uile a’ leum
   Cha-n eol doibh ceum na sith.

Le siol a’ pheacaidh (freumh ro shearbh)
   Tha ’n cridhe cealgach lan,
Us meas nas fear cha toir e bhuaith
   Mur teid ath-nuadhach’ le gras. [page 13]

The Song of Mary.—Luke I: 46-55.

My soul doth magnify the Lord,
   My spirit doth rejoice
In God my Saviour and my King;
   For He of me made choice.

He graciously regarded hath
   His handmaid’s low estate;
From henceforth, generations all
   Shall call him bless’d and great.

The Mighty One, the God of love,
   Has done great things for me;
His name is holy, and it shall
   For ever holy be.

To them that fear and worship him,
   His mercy is most sure,
His faithfulness forever doth
   From age to age endure.

Strength with his arm Jehovah shew’d
   The proud in heart abas’d;
He cast the mighty from their thrones
   The meek and lowly rais’d.

The hungry with good things he fill’d,
   The rich he empty made;
His servant Israel he help’d,
   As in his word he said.

His mercy he remembers now,
   As to our fathers told,
To Abraham and to his seed
   Whom he did choose of old.

Dominion Hymn.

From ocean unto ocean
   Our land shall own thee Lord,
And, filled with true devotion,
   Obey thy sovereign word;
Our prairies and our mountains,
   Forest and fertile field,
Our rivers, lakes, and fountains,
   To Thee shall tribute yield.

O Christ, for thine own glory,
   And for our country’s weal,
We humbly plead before Thee,
   Thyself in us reveal;
And may we know, Lord Jesus,
   The touch of thy dear hand;
And, healed of our diseases,
   The Tempter’s power withstand.

Where error smites with blindness,
   Enslaves and leads astray,
Do thou in loving kindness,
   Proclaim the gospel day;
Till all the tribes and races
   That dwell in this fair land,
Adorned with christian graces,
   Within thy courts shall stand.

Our Saviour King, defend us,
   And guide where we should go
Forth with thy message send us,
   Thy love and light to show;
Till fired with true devotion,
   Enkindled by thy word,
From ocean unto ocean,
   Our land shall own thee Lord. [page 14]

Oran Mhoire.—Lucas I: 46-55.

Bheir m’anam ard-mholadh do’n Triath,
Mo shlanuighear, mo Dhia, ’s ma Righ,
Mo epiorad ni ann aoibhneas mor,
Bho’n roghnuich e ’na throcair ’mi.

Oir dh’amhairc e bho neamh a nuas,
Air inbhe shuarraich ’Innilt fein;
Feuch goiridh sona mi gach neach
Air feadh nan linn ri teachd ’nar deigh.

An cumhachdach, Ard-Thriath na gloir’,
Rinn nithean mora dhomh an tras’;
Tha ainm-san urramach, ro naomh,
Us bidh e naomh mar sin gu brath.

Do’n dream d’an eagal e gu fior
Tha throcair dileas agus dearbh,
’S a’ thairisneachd air feadh gach al
Dhoibh sin a thug dha gradh gun chealg.

Le ghairdean nochd Jehobhah neart,
Na h-uaibhrich sgap nan smuaintibh ard
Na h-uaislean thilg o’n cathair sios
’S a’ mhuinntir iosal thog o’n lar.

An t-ocrach shasaich e le maith
An saoibhir chuir e falamh uaith;
Us thug e cuideachadh us treoir
D’a oglach, Israel nam buadh.

A’ cuimhneachadh a throcair fein
D’ar n-aithrichibh a reir mar gheall,
Do Abraham ’s d’a shliochd gu brath
A roghnuich e le gradh gun fheall.

Laoidh Tighearnais Chanada.

Bho chuan gu cuan, an tir so,
   A Dhe, ni striochdadh dhuit,
Nuair bhitheas I lan fhirean
   Bheir umhlachd fhior do d’ ghuth;
Gach reidh-shrath agus foar-bheinn,
   Gach coille bhuan us raon,
Gach abhainn, loch us fuaran
   Bheir dhui gach uair am maoin.

A Chriosd, is e ar n-urnuigh
   Gun nochd thu dhuinn thu fein,
Bidh so gu gloir as ur dhuit,
   Dh’ar duthaich ni e feum;
O Josa, Leigh nan grasan,
   Le d’ lamhan bean-sa ruinn,
Nuair leighsear bho gach cradh sinn,
   Ar namhaid saltrar leipn.

An aite mhearachd basmhor
   Rinn traillean dall de dhaoin’,
Cuir solus soisgeil ghrasmhoir
   Do chaoimhneis ghradhaich chaoin;
Cu-n tig gach dream us seorsa,
   Tha chomhnuidh anns an tir,
A stigh do chuirt do ghloir-sa
   Le grasan oirdhearc fior.

O Righ, a sbaor sinn, gleidh sinn,
   Us stiuir ar creum gach la,
Us seol dhuinn far an teid sinn
   A chur an ceill do ghraidh;
Gu-n lionar le luchd-urnuigh,
   A dhuisgear le do ghuth,
Bho chuan gu euan an duthaich,
   A thabhairt umhlachd dhuit. [page 15]

[unnumbered page, includes illustration]

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