The Old Scottish Minister.

    A man he was of Scottish race,
        And ancient Scottish name;
    Of common mould, but lofty mien,
        That dignified his frame.
    And he lived a humble, quiet life,
        Obscure, unknown to fame;
    God's glory and the good of man
        His constant, only aim:
            Like a fine old Scottish minister,
                All of the olden time.

    He dearly loved his gentle wife,
        As everyone could tell;
    And watched his children as they grew,
        Lest any ill befell;
    And as he looked upon his boys
        His bosom oft would swell;
    For he reared them in the fear of God,
        And ruled his household well:
            Like a true old Scottish minister,
                All of the olden time.

    A father, too, he was to all
        His congregation there:
    To all he felt a father's love,
        And showed a father's care:
    He wisely counselled them with speech,
        And pled for them in prayer;
    And ever for the needy ones
        He something had to spare:
            Like a kind old Scottish minister,
                All of the olden time.

    The servant of the Lord he was,
        In hovel and in hall, -
    The high ambassador of heaven
        Whom earth could not enthrall;
    Like Christ among the wedding guests,
        Or by the funeral pall;
    And he made his daily life sublime,
        A pattern unto all:
            Like a grand old Scottish minister,
                All of the olden time.

    For truth and righteousness and love
        His voice was ever heard;
    And minds were kindled into thought,
        And consciences were stirred,
    And weary, heavy-laden hearts
        To faith and hope were spurred,
    As from the pulpit he proclaimed
        The everlasting Word:
            Like a faithful Scottish minister,
                All of the olden time.

    And when, amid his elders grave,
        Extended in a line
    Beside the table of the Lord,
        He kept the rite divine,
    His face with a rapt, unearthly look
        Was seen to strangely shine,
    As he broke the white, symbolic bread,
        And passed the sacred wine:
            Like a saintly Scottish minister,
                All of the olden time.

    His lot was hard, his task severe;
        He found the burden light:
    When darkly o'er his pathway hung
        The shadows of the night,
    His heart was steadfast, for he walked
        By faith, and not by sight;
    And ran triumphantly his course,
        And fought a goodly fight:
            Like a brave old Scottish minister,
                All of the olden time.

    And when upon a summer's day
        He laid him down to die,
    He called his household to his side
        Without a moan or sigh,
    And blessed his children each in turn,
        And said a fond good-bye,
    And then consigned his soul to God,
        And went to live on high:
            Like a good old Scottish minister,
                All of the olden time.