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The Annals of the Parish-Part4_John Galt(1779-1839)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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O pious reader! standing by,

Learn like this gentle one to die.



The grass doth grow and fade away,

And time runs out by night and day;



The King of Terrors has command

To strike us with his dart in hand.



Go where we will by flood or field,

He will pursue and make us yield.



But though to him we must resign

The vesture of our part divine,



There is a jewel in our trust,

That will not perish in the dust,



A pearl of price, a precious gem,

Ordained for Jesus' diadem;



Therefore, be holy while you can,

And think upon the doom of man.



Repent in time and sin no more,

That when the strife of life is o'er,



On wings of love your soul may rise,

To dwell with angels in the skies,



Where psalms are sung eternally,

And martyrs ne'er again shall die;



But with the saints still bask in bliss,

And drink the cup of blessedness.



This was greatly thought of at the time, and Mr Lorimore, who had a

nerve for poesy himself in his younger years, was of opinion that it



was so much to the purpose, and suitablewithal, that he made his

scholars write it out for their examination copies, at the reading



whereof before the heritors, when the examination of the school came

round, the tear came into my eye, and every one present sympathized



with me in my great affliction for the loss of the first Mrs

Balwhidder.



Andrew Langshaw, as I have recorded, having come from the Glasgow

College to the burial of his sister, my wife that was, stayed with



me a month to keep me company; and staying with me, he was a great

cordial, for the weather was wet and sleety, and the nights were



stormy, so that I could go little out, and few of the elders came

in, they being at that time old men in a feckless condition, not at



all qualified to warsle with the blasts of winter. But when Andrew

left me to go back to his classes, I was eerie and lonesome; and but



for the getting of the monument ready, which was a blessed

entertainment to me in those dreary nights, with consulting anent



the shape of it with John Truel, and meditating on the verse for the

epitaph, I might have gone altogether demented. However, it pleased



Him, who is the surety of the sinner, to help me through the Slough

of Despond, and to set my feet on firm land, establishing my way



thereon.

But the work of the monument, and the epitaph, could not endure for



a constancy, and after it was done, I was again in great danger of

sinking into the hypochonderies a second time. However, I was



enabled to fight with my affliction, and by-and-by, as the spring

began to open her green lattice, and to set out her flower-pots to



the sunshine, and the time of the singing of birds was come, I

became more composed, and like myself, so I often walked in the



fields, and held communion with nature, and wondered at the

mysteries thereof.



On one of these occasions, as I was sauntering along the edge of

Eaglesham-wood, looking at the industrious bee going from flower to



flower, and the idle butterfly, that layeth up no store, but

perisheth ere it is winter, I felt as it were a spirit from on high



descending upon me, a throb at my heart, and a thrill in my brain,

and I was transported out of myself, and seized with the notion of



writing a book--but what it should be about, I could not settle to

my satisfaction. Sometimes I thought of an orthodox poem, like



PARADISE LOST, by John Milton, wherein I proposed to treat more at

large of Original Sin, and the great mystery of Redemption; at



others, I fancied that a connect treatise on the efficacy of Free

Grace would be more taking; but although I made divers beginnings in



both subjects, some new thought ever came into my head, and the




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