Ossian Collection > Gaelic bards

THE PIOUS LABOURER. 237
Before that Mercy hath unveiled her face,
And nought but sin seems living in the soul,
He saw the course of Providence roll on,
And knew that he had always wrought against it.
And so had always God's good gifts profaned.
And God's invincible decree opposed.
Ah ! then he learnt how man is God's own image —
How even creative power is reflected
By that most subtle force whicJi never resteth,
But still del^ases or exalts the life —
Imagination, owned by all mankind.
Rare artist framing worlds within the world,
And much too often passing its own worlds
On every sort of man, for God's firm structure
Which foundations hath, far deeper than we know.
Imagination had deceived this cottar.
Working so humbly on the Highland moors :
He had created for himself a life.
And formed it falsely as in God's despite.
As this great truth flashed on the agony
In which he wrestled till the morning light.
There sunk a woe upon the poor man's mind,
And his heart withered like a rootless herb,
Till all he saw was coloured with his dread,
And beauty covered up with melancholy.
Without a hope, without a star he lived,
Until the Sun of Righteousness arose.
And o'er the gloom shed saving, guiding light.
Then, full of gratitude Avithin his heart,
The 2:)Oor man kept the word that raised from sin.
"Fear not, ye of little faith ! but love,"
And this he treasured till it hallowed him ;
For at its sound and through its glorious power
His life gre^ green as at the sound of rain ;
Then calm, and grave, and solemn, and serene,
And full of charity and gracious worth,
The brighter bloomed with each returning day,