But the impression would be deepened, could you behold the land, beautified and ennobled by her sabbath calm, as once in seven days, she rests and worships before the Lord. Could you but hear the voice of her church-going bells, and go to the house of God, in company with her thoughtful but cheerful population; could you sit in some "auld warld" kirk, and hear some grey-haired holy man dispense, with deep and tender tones, the word of everlasting life; could you hear a whole congregation of devout worshippers make the hills ring again, with their simple melody; above all, could you place yourself in some deep shady glen, by the "sweet burnie," as it "wimples" among the waving willows, or the yellow broom, or sit down on the green "brae side," enamelled with "gowans," on some sacramental occasion, when thousands are gathered to hear the preaching of the gospel, and with simple ritual, to commemorate the dying love of the Redeemer! Could you see the devout and happy looks of the aged, and the sweet but reverent aspect of children and youth, as the tones of some earnest preacher thrilled them with emotions of holy gratitude, in view of the "loving kindness of the Lord," you would instinctively feel that Scotland,--free, Protestant Scotland, was a happy land, and would be prepared to exclaim with the sweet singer of Israel: "Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound, they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance." "How with religious awe impressed They open lay the guileless breast; And youth and age with fears distressed All due prepare, The symbols of eternal rest Devout to share. How down ilk lang withdrawing hill, Successive crowds the valleys fill; While pure religious converse still Beguiles the way, And gives a cast to youthful will, To suit the day. How placed along the sacred board, Their hoary pastor's looks adored,-- His voice with peace and blessing stored, Sent from above, And faith and hope, and joy afford And boundless love. O'er this with warm seraphic glow, Celestial beings pleased bow; And whispered hear the holy vow, 'Mid grateful tears; And mark amid such scenes below Their future peers."[3] [Footnote 3: Letter to Robert Burns, by Mr. Telford, of Shrewsbury, a native of Scotland.] Or you might leave this scene, and study the Scottish character with some shepherd boy on the hills, as he reads God's word upon the greensward, and meditates on things divine, while tending his flocks far from the house of God, on the sabbath day, a circumstance to which Grahame in his poem of the Sabbath, has touchingly referred, and which Telford has thus described: