A Few Stanzas from Robert Burn’s ‘the Cotters Saturday night’
[Burns, the Bard of Scotland two centuries ago, had a difficult time walking in the true religion, but recognized it when he saw it in his own father, whom he said he modeled this poem after. When we seek fame and fortune, it is very difficult not to deflect from truth in order to please the rich and famous, who never lived in cotter’s huts.]
Or, Saturday night at the Cotters Hut; Three stanzas;
“Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed, How He in Heaven that bore the second name, had not on earth a place to lay His head: How his followers and his servants sped, the precepts sage they wrote to many a land; How he who lone in Patmos banished, saw in the sun a mighty Angel stand, and heard great Babylon’s doom pronounced by Heavens command.
Then kneeling down to Heaven’s Eternal King, the saint, the father and the husband prays; Hope springs exultant on triumphant wing, that thus they shall all meet in future days, there ever to bask in uncreated rays, no more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, together hymning their Creators praise, in such society but still more dear; while circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Compared with this, how poor religions pride, in all the pomp of method and of art, where men display to congregations wide, devotions every grace, except the heart! The Power incensed, the pageant will desert, the pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; But haply in some cottage far apart, may hear well pleased, the language of the soul, and in His Book of Life, the inmates poor enroll.”