Our night is dreary, and dim our day; And if thou turn’st thy face away, We are sinful, feeble, and helpless dust, And have none to look to, and none to trust. The powers of darkness are all abroad, They own no Saviour, and fear no God; And we are trembling in dumb dismay, O turn not thus thy face away! Our morning dawn is with clouds o’erspread, And our evening fall is a bloody red; And the groans are heard on the mountain swarth; There is blood in heaven, and blood on earth. A life of scorn for us thou did’st lead, And in the grave laid thy blessed head; Then think of those who undauntedly Have laid down life and all for thee. Thou wilt not turn them forth in wrath, To walk this world of sin and death, In shadowy dim deformity? O God it may not—cannot be! Thy aid, O mighty One, we crave! Not shortened is thy arm to save. Afar from thee we now sojourn Return to us, O God, return! This air, having a great resemblance to the tone and manner in which the old Cameronians said, or rather sung their prayers, and just no more music in it, as the singer will perceive, than what renders the recitation more slow and solemn, Nanny’s hymn affected the family group in no ordinary degree; it made the hairs of their head creep, and thrilled their simple hearts, easily impressed by divine things, while their looks strongly expressed their feelings. None of them would read or recite any thing farther, but entreated Nanny to say it over again, affirming, with one voice that “it was an _extrodnar_ thing.” “Ah! dear, dear bairns! I dinna ken about it,” said she; “he was a good cannie lad that made it, but he mixed wi’ the scoffers, and turned to hae his doubts and his failings like mony ane, (Lord forgie us a’ for our share in them;) he seems even to have doubted o’ the Omnipresence when he penned that, which was far far wrang. I’ll rather say ye ane on that subject that he had made when in a better way o’ thinking. It is said that the Englishes sing it in their chapels.” She then attempted one in a bolder and more regular strain, but wanting the simplicity of the former, it failed in having the same effect. As it, however, closed the transactions of that momentous night at Riskinhope, we shall with it close this long chapter. Dweller in heaven and ruler below! Fain would I know thee, yet tremble to know! How can a mortal deem, how may it be, That being can not be, but present with thee? Is it true that thou saw’st me ere I saw the morn? Is it true that thou knew’st me before I was born? That nature must live in the light of thine eye? This knowledge for me is too great and too high!