Part 24

A winsome woman, trig and neat, Love, kindness, beaming in her eyes; In toil through day and watch by night, She makes of self a sacrifice.

Her coming, like the golden beam Of sunlight in a darkened room, Brings comfort to the sufferer's heart, Her brightness banishing the gloom.

Her youth and pride of womanhood, With all their joys are put away; Her Christ-like life she dedicates And gives for frail humanity.

We find her in our dear homeland, In ward and mansion, cot and hall; We find her on the stricken field, Where sorely wounded heroes fall:

Ready to play her angel part, And tyrants' evil power defy, For honour, justice, love and truth, Prepared at any time to die.

Then let us all revere the nurse, For virtues great and manifold; Her worth to us could not be weighed In shining bars of purest gold.

THE TRUE MAN.

He breathes and lives and moves along The line of his allotted span, Equipped with reason for a guide, By far the highest part of man. He cannot say from whence he came: His Maker did no message send; He cannot tell where he may be At his inevitable end.

His life is more than can be seen; Upon the beauteous flower-decked ground, A deeper meaning hidden lies, Which mortal man has never found. In God's good time he will succeed The signs of Nature to define, With clearer vision then behold And realise the plan Divine.

The beauteous earth gives forth her fruit When harvest suns preside above; The bloom of flowers, and singing birds Proclaim to man a God of Love. He feels the wondrous power of love, Which, caught and held by reason's sway, Will raise him to perfection's height And bring about the perfect day.

Meanwhile 'mid sickness, pain and death, With gleams of pleasure here and there, He works: sometimes his load seems light, And sometimes more than he can bear. Yet through it all his faith holds firm, He walks according to his light, To God and mankind ever true In brightest day and darkest night.

AN EVENING PRAYER.

Father, we give Thee thanks once more, As daily we have done before, For countless blessings from Thy store Of love and grace; Look on us, Father, we implore With smiling face.

The evil we have done this day Forgive, oh Lord, we humbly pray; Thou knowest 'neath the tempter's sway We're prone to fall; Then guide and guard us all the way, Great Lord of all.

This night, as 'neath Thy wings we creep, We pray Thee loving vigil keep; May we reward of labour reap, Safe from all storm, Resting secure in blessed sleep Till breaks the morn:

Then to arise alert and bright, Refreshed by slumber of the night, Strengthened to renew the fight And try again To think, and say, and do the right. Amen; Amen.

RABBIE.

The gist (in rhyme) of the Author's first speech at a Burns' Supper.

What can I say aboot Rabbie That hasna already been said? What tribute pay tae his memory That hasna already been paid? Great men an' clever hae a' had their say On the Laddie wha followed the ploo'; The subject's owre big for a head sic as mine; Them wha can dae it justice are few.

I've nae skill in the clinkin' o' classical words That some freens o' ma ain think sae gran'; Sae dinna expect me tae gie ye a screed In a language I don't understan'. Oor auld mither tongue, I mainteen, is the best, O' a' herts it can open the portal; An' Rabbie wi' lyric an' hert-meltin' sang Has made the auld Doric immortal.

He sang o' the birdies, the trees, an' the flooers; He championed the cause o' the feeble; He sang o' the joys an' the sorrows o' men, He stood against a' that was evil. He sang in the major some rollickin' gangs, Which filled ilka hert fu' o' glee; His sangs in the minor sae dowie an' sad Brocht the tears drappin' doon frae the e'e.

In oor grand "Scots Wha Hae" the patriot is seen; 'Tis the slogan o' Scotland to-day; An' whaur is the Scotsman, on hearin' its ca', Wad ever be last in the fray? "The Land o' the Leal" is equally gran' In conception of true human love, An' belief in the Land whaur there's naething but joy 'Neath the smile o' the Faither above.

"Flow gently, Sweet Afton," "To Mary in Heaven," "The Lea Rig," "My Nannie's Awa'"-- Such gems o' love-sang oor best minds declare Made Rabbie the king o' them a'. When his hand swept the strings o' auld Scotia's lyre The notes were sae bonnie an' sweet, Like the heavenly bliss o' the fond lover's kiss When in their ain Eden they meet.

Let the story, the toast, the speech, an' the sang, An' the glass tak' their coorse roun' the table; Though it mayna be muckle that ilk yin can dae, At least let him dae what he's able. Tae help in the cause we a' hae at hert Let's toast it afore we disperse-- That brithers we'll be on the land an' the sea, Embracing the hale universe.

WELCOME HOME.

TO DEMOBILISED SOLDIERS.

Welcome home! brave sons of Scotland, From the far-flung battle line; Welcome home to peaceful labour In the workshop, field, and mine! Welcome to our social functions, Free from war with all its ills! Welcome to our love and friendship, And your native glens and hills.

You have nobly done your duty; Firm and steadfast you have been In the most terrific conflict That the world has ever seen; Daring death within the trenches, Daring death from out the blue, In the mighty charge and carnage, Strong in motive, brave, and true.