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The New Zealand Evangelist


page 275


Farewell To Scotland.

Our native land, our native vale,
A long and last adieu;
Farewell to bonny Teviotdale,
And Cheviot's mountains blue!

Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,
And streams renowned in song;
Farewell, ye blythesome braes and meads,
Our hearts have loved so long.

Farewell, ye broomy elfin knowes,
Where thyme and harebell grow;
Farewell, ye hoary haunted howes,
O'erhung with birk and sloe.

The battle-mound, the border tower,
That Scotia's annals tell,
The martyr's grave, the lover's bower—
To each—to all—farewell!

Home of our hearts!—our fathers’ home—
Land of the brave and free!
The sail is flapping on the foam
That bears us far from thee!

We seek a mild and distant shore
Beyond the Atlantic main;
We leave thee to return no more,
Nor view thy cliffs again!

But may dishonour blight our fame,
And quench our household fires,
When we, or ours, forget thy name,
Green island of our sires!

Our native land, our native vale,
A long, a last adieu :—
Farewell to bonny Teviotdale,
And Scotland's mountains blue

page 276

A Thought On The Sea-Shore.
In every object here I see,
Something, O Lord, that leads to thee;
Firm as the rocks thy promise stands,
Thy mercies countless as the sands,
Thy love a sea immensely wide,
Thy grace an everflowing tide.

In every object here I see
Something, my heart, that points to thee;
Hard as the rocks that bound the strand,
Unfruitful as the barren sand,
Deep and deceitful as the ocean,
And, like the tides, in constant motion.