But the impression would be deepened, could you behold the land, beautified and ennobled by her sabbath calm, as once in seven days, she rests and worships before the Lord. Could you but hear the voice of her church-going bells, and go to the house of God, in company with her thoughtful but cheerful population; could you sit in some "auld warld" kirk, and hear some grey-haired holy man dispense, with deep and tender tones, the word of everlasting life; could you hear a whole congregation of devout worshippers make the hills ring again, with their simple melody; above all, could you place yourself in some deep shady glen, by the "sweet burnie," as it "wimples" among the waving willows, or the yellow broom, or sit down on the green "brae side," enamelled with "gowans," on some sacramental occasion, when thousands are gathered to hear the preaching of the gospel, and with simple ritual, to commemorate the dying love of the Redeemer! Could you see the devout and happy looks of the aged, and the sweet but reverent aspect of children and youth, as the tones of some earnest preacher thrilled them with emotions of holy gratitude, in view of the "loving kindness of the Lord," you would instinctively feel that Scotland—free, Protestant Scotland, was a happy land, and would be prepared to exclaim with the sweet singer of Israel: "Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound, they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance."
"How with religious awe impressed
They open lay the guileless breast;
And youth and age with fears distressed
All due prepare,
The symbols of eternal rest
Devout to share.
How down ilk lang withdrawing hill,
Successive crowds the valleys fill;
While pure religious converse still
Beguiles the way,
And gives a cast to youthful will,
To suit the day.
How placed along the sacred board,
Their hoary pastor's looks adored—
His voice with peace and blessing stored,
Sent from above,
And faith and hope, and joy afford
And boundless love.
O'er this with warm seraphic glow,
Celestial beings pleased bow;
And whispered hear the holy vow,
'Mid grateful tears;
And mark amid such scenes below
Their future peers."[3]
Or you might leave this scene, and study the Scottish character with some shepherd boy on the hills, as he reads God's word upon the greensward, and meditates on things divine, while tending his flocks far from the house of God, on the sabbath day, a circumstance to which Grahame in his poem of the Sabbath, has touchingly referred, and which Telford has thus described:
"Say how, by early lessons taught,
Truth's pleasing air is willing caught!
Congenial to the untainted thought,
The shepherd boy,
Who tends his flocks on lonely height,
Feels holy joy.
Is aught on earth so lovely known,
On sabbath morn, and far alone.
His guileless soul all naked shown
Before his God—
Such prayers must welcome reach the throne
And bless'd abode.
O tell! with what a heartfelt joy
The parent eyes the virtuous boy;
And all his constant kind employ,
Is how to give
The best of lear he can enjoy, As means to live."
The scenes of "the Cotter's Saturday Night," one of the sweetest poems in any language, are exact transcripts from real life, as Burns himself intimates. His father was "a godly man," and was wont, morning and evening, to "turn o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, the big ha' Bible," and worship God, with his family. Where in Italy or in Austria will you meet aught so beautiful or thrilling as the following?
"The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They round the ingle form a circle wide,
The sire turns o'er wi' patriarchal grace
The big ha' Bible ance his father's pride: His bonnet reverently is laid aside, His lyart haffets[4] wearing thin and bare: Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide He wales a portion with judicious care; And 'Let us worship God!' he says with solemn air.
They chant their artless notes in simple guise,
They tune their hearts, by far their noblest aim;
Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive Martyrs worthy of the name, Or noble Elgin beats the heavenward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays. Compared with these Italian trills are tame; The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise, Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.
The priest-like father reads the sacred page,
How Abram was the friend of God on high,
Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage
With Amalek's ungracious progeny;
Or how the royal bard did groaning lie
Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire;
Or Job's pathetic plaint and wailing cry;
Or rapt Isaiah's wild seraphic fire;
Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.
Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme:
How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed,
How He who bore in Heaven the second name,
Had 'not on earth whereon to lay his head;'
How his first followers and servants sped;
The precepts sage they wrote to many a land:
How he who lone in Patmos banished,
Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand;
And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by Heaven's command.
Then kneeling down to Heaven's eternal King,
The saint, the father, and the husband prays,
Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing,
That thus they all shall meet in future days:
There ever bask in uncreated rays,
No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear,
Together hymning their Creator's praise,
In such society, yet still more dear;
While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Compared with this how poor religion's pride,
In all the pomp of method and of art,
When men display to congregations wide,
Devotion's every grace except the heart;
The Power incensed the pageant will desert,
The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole;
But haply in some cottage far apart,
May hear well pleased the language of the soul,
And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll."
These are the elements of a people's greatness. These are the perennial sources of their ruth and loyalty, their freedom and virtue.