So his lordship decreed with a grave solemn tone, Decisive and clear, without one IF or BUT-- That, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, By daylight or candlelight--Eyes should be shut! HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. [Footnote: Kennedy gives the following account of the origin of "Holy Willie's Prayer;"--Gavin Hamilton, Esq., Clerk of Ayr, the Poet's friend and benefactor was accosted one Sunday morning by a mendicant, who begged alms of him. Not recollecting that it was the Sabbath, Hamilton set the man to work in his garden, which lay on lay on the public road, and the poor fellow was discovered by the people on their way to the kirk, and they immediately stoned him from the ground. For this offense, Mr. Hamilton was not permitted to have a child christened, which his wife bore him soon afterward, until he applied to the synod. His most officious opponent was William Fisher, one of the elders of the church: and to revenge the insult to his friend, Burns made him the subject of this humorous ballad.] ROBERT BURNS. O Thou, wha in the heavens dost dwell, Wha, as it pleases best thysel', Sends ane to heaven, and ten to hell, A' for thy glory, And no for ony giud or ill They've done afore thee! I bless and praise thy matchless might, When thousands thou hast left in night, That I am here, afore thy sight. For gifts an' grace, A burnin' an' a shinin' light To a' this place. What was I, or my generation, That I should get sic exaltation! I, wha deserve sic just damnation, For broken laws, Five thousand years 'fore my creation Thro' Adam's cause. When frae my mither's womb I fell, Thou might hae plung'd me into hell, To gnash my gums, to weep and wail, In burnin' lake, Whare damned devils roar and yell, Chain'd to a stake. Yet I am here a chosen sample; To show thy grace is great and ample; I'm here a pillar in thy temple, Strong as a rock, A guide, a buckler, an example To a' thy flock. [O L--d, then kens what zeal I bear, When drinkers drink, and swearers swear, And singing there, and dancing here, Wi' great and sma'; For I am keepit by thy fear, Free frae them a'.] But yet, O L--d! confess I must, At times I 'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust; And sometimes, too, wi' warldly trust, Vile self gets in; But thou remembers we are dust, Defll'd in sin. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *