Meanwhile 'mid sickness, pain and death, With gleams of pleasure here and there, He works: sometimes his load seems light, And sometimes more than he can bear. Yet through it all his faith holds firm, He walks according to his light, To God and mankind ever true In brightest day and darkest night. AN EVENING PRAYER. Father, we give Thee thanks once more, As daily we have done before, For countless blessings from Thy store Of love and grace; Look on us, Father, we implore With smiling face. The evil we have done this day Forgive, oh Lord, we humbly pray; Thou knowest 'neath the tempter's sway We're prone to fall; Then guide and guard us all the way, Great Lord of all. This night, as 'neath Thy wings we creep, We pray Thee loving vigil keep; May we reward of labour reap, Safe from all storm, Resting secure in blessed sleep Till breaks the morn: Then to arise alert and bright, Refreshed by slumber of the night, Strengthened to renew the fight And try again To think, and say, and do the right. Amen; Amen. RABBIE. _The gist (in rhyme) of the Author's first speech at a Burns' Supper._ What can I say aboot Rabbie That hasna already been said? What tribute pay tae his memory That hasna already been paid? Great men an' clever hae a' had their say On the Laddie wha followed the ploo'; The subject's owre big for a head sic as mine; Them wha can dae it justice are few. I've nae skill in the clinkin' o' classical words That some freens o' ma ain think sae gran'; Sae dinna expect me tae gie ye a screed In a language I don't understan'. Oor auld mither tongue, I mainteen, is the best, O' a' herts it can open the portal; An' Rabbie wi' lyric an' hert-meltin' sang Has made the auld Doric immortal. He sang o' the birdies, the trees, an' the flooers; He championed the cause o' the feeble; He sang o' the joys an' the sorrows o' men, He stood against a' that was evil. He sang in the major some rollickin' gangs, Which filled ilka hert fu' o' glee; His sangs in the minor sae dowie an' sad Brocht the tears drappin' doon frae the e'e. In oor grand "Scots Wha Hae" the patriot is seen; 'Tis the slogan o' Scotland to-day; An' whaur is the Scotsman, on hearin' its ca', Wad ever be last in the fray? "The Land o' the Leal" is equally gran' In conception of true human love, An' belief in the Land whaur there's naething but joy 'Neath the smile o' the Faither above. "Flow gently, Sweet Afton," "To Mary in Heaven," "The Lea Rig," "My Nannie's Awa'"-- Such gems o' love-sang oor best minds declare Made Rabbie the king o' them a'. When his hand swept the strings o' auld Scotia's lyre The notes were sae bonnie an' sweet, Like the heavenly bliss o' the fond lover's kiss When in their ain Eden they meet.