Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

278
For he knew that his pilgrimage was done.
And as he saw God's shadow there,
His spirit poured itself in prayer.
' ' I come unto death's second-birth,
Beneath a stranger-air,
A pilgrim on a dull, cold earth,
As all my fathers were.
And men have stamped me with a curse, —
I feel it is not Thine,
Thy mercy — like yon sun — was made
On me — as them — to shine ;
And, therefore, dare I lift mine, eye,
Through that, to Thee, — befoi'e I die.
" In this great temple, built by Thee,
Wliose altars are divine.
Beneath yon lamp, that ceaselessly
Lights up Thine own true shrine,
take my latest sacrifice, —
Look down, and make this sod
Holy as that where, long ago,
The Hebrew met his God !
' ' I have not caused the widow's tears,
Nor dimmed the orphan's eye,
T have not stained the virgin's years,
Nor mocked the mourner's cry ;
The songs of Zion, in mine ear,
Have ever been most sweet,
And always when I felt Thee near.
My ' shoes ' were ' off my feet. '
" I have known Thee, in the whirlwind,
1 have known Thee, on the hill,
I have loved Thee, in the voice of birds,
Or the music of the rill.
I dreamt Thee in the shadow,