Poems and Songs of Robert Burns - Robert Burns

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pride

       Casts forth his eyes abroad,

       But with humility and awe

       Still walks before his God.

       That man shall flourish like the trees,

       Which by the streamlets grow;

       The fruitful top is spread on high,

       And firm the root below.

       But he whose blossom buds in guilt

       Shall to the ground be cast,

       And, like the rootless stubble, tost

       Before the sweeping blast.

       For why? that God the good adore,

       Hath giv'n them peace and rest,

       But hath decreed that wicked men

       Shall ne'er be truly blest.

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      O Thou, the first, the greatest friend

       Of all the human race!

       Whose strong right hand has ever been

       Their stay and dwelling place!

       Before the mountains heav'd their heads

       Beneath Thy forming hand,

       Before this ponderous globe itself

       Arose at Thy command;

       That Pow'r which rais'd and still upholds

       This universal frame,

       From countless, unbeginning time

       Was ever still the same.

       Those mighty periods of years

       Which seem to us so vast,

       Appear no more before Thy sight

       Than yesterday that's past.

       Thou giv'st the word: Thy creature, man,

       Is to existence brought;

       Again Thou say'st, “Ye sons of men,

       Return ye into nought!”

       Thou layest them, with all their cares,

       In everlasting sleep;

       As with a flood Thou tak'st them off

       With overwhelming sweep.

       They flourish like the morning flow'r,

       In beauty's pride array'd;

       But long ere night cut down it lies

       All wither'd and decay'd.

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      O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause

       Of all my hope and fear!

       In whose dread presence, ere an hour,

       Perhaps I must appear!

       If I have wander'd in those paths

       Of life I ought to shun,

       As something, loudly, in my breast,

       Remonstrates I have done;

       Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me

       With passions wild and strong;

       And list'ning to their witching voice

       Has often led me wrong.

       Where human weakness has come short,

       Or frailty stept aside,

       Do Thou, All-Good—for such Thou art—

       In shades of darkness hide.

       Where with intention I have err'd,

       No other plea I have,

       But, Thou art good; and Goodness still

       Delighteth to forgive.

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      Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?

       Have I so found it full of pleasing charms?

       Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between—

       Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms,

       Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?

       Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?

       For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms:

       I tremble to approach an angry God,

       And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod.

       Fain would I say, “Forgive my foul offence,”

       Fain promise never more to disobey;

       But, should my Author health again dispense,

       Again I might desert fair virtue's way;

       Again in folly's part might go astray;

       Again exalt the brute and sink the man;

       Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray

       Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan?

       Who sin so oft have mourn'd, yet to temptation ran?

       O Thou, great Governor of all below!

       If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee,

       Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow,

       Or still the tumult of the raging sea:

       With that controlling pow'r assist ev'n me,

       Those headlong furious passions to confine,

       For all unfit I feel my pow'rs to be,

       To rule their torrent in th' allowed line;

       O, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine!

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      Though fickle Fortune has deceived me,

       She pormis'd fair and perform'd but ill;

       Of mistress, friends, and wealth bereav'd me,

       Yet I bear a heart shall support me still.

       I'll act with prudence as far 's I'm able,

       But if success I must never find,

       Then come misfortune, I bid thee welcome,

       I'll meet thee with an undaunted mind.

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