 | The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith |  |
563
GEORGE WISHART
They lured him away from my side,
The man likest Christ I have known:
I felt in my heart that they lied,
And vowed he should not go alone.
But he waved me aside, saying, “One
Is enough for a sacrifice;
Your work here is only begun,
Wait you till God's time for the price.”
The man likest Christ I have known:
I felt in my heart that they lied,
And vowed he should not go alone.
But he waved me aside, saying, “One
Is enough for a sacrifice;
Your work here is only begun,
Wait you till God's time for the price.”
Oh, lightly the Cardinal laughed,
Having snared his meek victim at length,
And gaily the French wines were quaffed
That night in his castle of strength;
And he sent forth a message straight-way
To his brother High-priest in the West,
To share in devouring the prey,
Which would give to their Babylon rest.
Having snared his meek victim at length,
And gaily the French wines were quaffed
That night in his castle of strength;
And he sent forth a message straight-way
To his brother High-priest in the West,
To share in devouring the prey,
Which would give to their Babylon rest.
The Glasgow Archbishop was vain,
And the Cardinal haughty and proud;
They had quarrelled, too, once and again,
Whose cross should go first through the crowd,
And had fought at the altar for place
With surplices tattered and torn,
And crowns had been cracked, by the mace,
Of clerics all shaven and shorn.
And the Cardinal haughty and proud;
They had quarrelled, too, once and again,
Whose cross should go first through the crowd,
And had fought at the altar for place
With surplices tattered and torn,
And crowns had been cracked, by the mace,
Of clerics all shaven and shorn.
But Pilate and Herod agreed
When they plotted to crucify Christ,
And these, too, were one in their deed,
When Wishart was sacrificed.
Together, with feigning and lies,
The saint to the faggots they doomed,
Together they feasted their eyes
On the flames which the martyr consumed.
When they plotted to crucify Christ,
And these, too, were one in their deed,
When Wishart was sacrificed.
Together, with feigning and lies,
The saint to the faggots they doomed,
Together they feasted their eyes
On the flames which the martyr consumed.
And so my loved Master and Friend—
Meek and brave he, as ever was known—
They brought to a sorrowful end,
Yet he died like a king on his throne.
And I rede you, Lord Cardinal, soon
The day of God's vengeance shall come,
When the pride that soared high as the moon
Shall lie in the dust, and be dumb.
Meek and brave he, as ever was known—
They brought to a sorrowful end,
Yet he died like a king on his throne.
And I rede you, Lord Cardinal, soon
The day of God's vengeance shall come,
When the pride that soared high as the moon
Shall lie in the dust, and be dumb.
I know not the day nor the hour,
Nor yet by whose hand 'twill be wrought,
But I know that God reigneth in power,
And that right shall be done, as it ought.
I have faith though His judgments be strange,
And at times darkly hid from our sight,
That at length, His own saints to avenge,
They will break forth as clear as the light.
Nor yet by whose hand 'twill be wrought,
But I know that God reigneth in power,
And that right shall be done, as it ought.
I have faith though His judgments be strange,
And at times darkly hid from our sight,
That at length, His own saints to avenge,
They will break forth as clear as the light.
For the spirit that now is abroad
'Mong the nations of Europe is here,
And will cast off the horrible load
Of priestly oppression and fear:
Our land too has come to the birth
And the pains of her travail begin,
But I trow she has strength to bring forth
The life that is stirring within.
'Mong the nations of Europe is here,
And will cast off the horrible load
Of priestly oppression and fear:
Our land too has come to the birth
And the pains of her travail begin,
But I trow she has strength to bring forth
The life that is stirring within.
We have only a young lass to rule
Our rude and turbulent folk,
Who was trained in a pestilent school,
And comes of a light-minded stock.
She knows not the land of her sires,
And she loves the gay doings of France—
Its trinkets and changeful attires,
And the viol, the pipe, and the dance.
Our rude and turbulent folk,
Who was trained in a pestilent school,
And comes of a light-minded stock.
She knows not the land of her sires,
And she loves the gay doings of France—
Its trinkets and changeful attires,
And the viol, the pipe, and the dance.
564
Well, it's only like youth to be gay,
And her mirth we might haply forgive,
Though I fear me it is not the way
To prepare for the life she must live;
But they've poisoned her mind against truth,
To quench the faint spark of our hope,
And the mass-priests have thirled her youth
To the service of Rome and the Pope.
And her mirth we might haply forgive,
Though I fear me it is not the way
To prepare for the life she must live;
But they've poisoned her mind against truth,
To quench the faint spark of our hope,
And the mass-priests have thirled her youth
To the service of Rome and the Pope.
Small wonder God's people are filled
With fears and anxieties, then,
When they see all our rulers unskilled
In the wise arts of governing men,
All selfishly seeking their own,
Ambitious of power and of place,
And fain, for a bribe, to disown
The Word of the Lord and His grace;
With fears and anxieties, then,
When they see all our rulers unskilled
In the wise arts of governing men,
All selfishly seeking their own,
Ambitious of power and of place,
And fain, for a bribe, to disown
The Word of the Lord and His grace;
While the Baal-priests stand at the gate
Of the High Kirks, and group in the porch,
And mutter their malice and hate,
And threaten the faggot and torch;
And treason and murder and strife
Are hatched by the Cardinal still,
As he broods every day of his life
How to bend the whole land to his will.
Of the High Kirks, and group in the porch,
And mutter their malice and hate,
And threaten the faggot and torch;
And treason and murder and strife
Are hatched by the Cardinal still,
As he broods every day of his life
How to bend the whole land to his will.
Yet dark as the hour now may be,
And long as the night still may last,
By the Truth we shall yet be made free,
And the Truth spreadeth surely and fast.
God will not forsake us, or fail
When we pass through the fire and the flood;
Yea, He will be our buckler and mail
When the sword shall be thirsting for blood.
And long as the night still may last,
By the Truth we shall yet be made free,
And the Truth spreadeth surely and fast.
God will not forsake us, or fail
When we pass through the fire and the flood;
Yea, He will be our buckler and mail
When the sword shall be thirsting for blood.
There are evil times coming, I know,
Confusion and terror and wrath,
And the strong man shall then be laid low,
And the weak shall be turned from the path;
But beyond, I can see a great light,
And the land resting peaceful and calm
'Neath the rule of high wisdom and right,
With the Kirk praising God in a psalm.
Confusion and terror and wrath,
And the strong man shall then be laid low,
And the weak shall be turned from the path;
But beyond, I can see a great light,
And the land resting peaceful and calm
'Neath the rule of high wisdom and right,
With the Kirk praising God in a psalm.
I have faith in the Word and the Rock,
Our refuge in trouble and care;
For the one thing forbidden Christ's flock
Is to wring the weak hands of despair.
A Chief, in the battle's hot brunt,
May fall in the pride of his strength,
But another shall step to the front,
And march on to triumph at length.
Our refuge in trouble and care;
For the one thing forbidden Christ's flock
Is to wring the weak hands of despair.
A Chief, in the battle's hot brunt,
May fall in the pride of his strength,
But another shall step to the front,
And march on to triumph at length.
And a land, to be famous in story
For piety, letters, and truth,
Shall arise in her splendour and glory
Ever fresh in the dews of her youth;
For poverty she shall have wealth,
And honours in room of her shame,
Her plagues shall give place unto health,
And the world shall yet ring with her fame.
For piety, letters, and truth,
Shall arise in her splendour and glory
Ever fresh in the dews of her youth;
For poverty she shall have wealth,
And honours in room of her shame,
Her plagues shall give place unto health,
And the world shall yet ring with her fame.
| The Poetical Works of Walter C. Smith | |