POETRY.

Western Star, Issue 260, 31 August 1878, Page 7

POETRY.

AULD SANGS. By John Lunham, Brooklyn. I like to sing the clear auld sangs We used to hear lang syne, When clustering rouu’ the auld hearthstane A family of nine. That happy group before my view My fancy still will bring Whene’er I croon the dear auld sangs My mither used to sing. Two of that group in the kirk-yaird Aredyin’ side by side, And from the scenes I’m far awa’ Acros the ocean wide. But to the circle round that hearth My fancy still will cling, Whene’er I croon the dear auld Bangs My mither used to sing. The banks an’ braes, an’ streams an’ wuds, An’ scenes I lo’ecl sae weel, Seem a’ to pass before my view, And hold me like a spell. The laverock an’ the lintio’s notes Seem in my ears to ring, Whene’er I croon the dear auld sangs My mither used to sing. I’ve had my ups and downs in life, My troubles great an’ sms', But aye a heart to cheer me up, And bear mo through them a’. Aft hae thao troubles and time cares Been robbed o’ mony a sting, By crooning o’er the dear auld sangs My mither used to sing. And whereso’er my lot is cast j They’ll aye bo dear to me ; I sing them to my little ones That prattle round my ksee.J And as I sing my bonnie bairns Still closer round me cling— They love to hear the deir auld sangs My mither used to sing. ■ ■ NO SECT IN HE A TEN. Talking o? f.ects lid late 000 eve, Of the various doetraes tbe saints beTcre, That night I stood in a troubled dream By tbe side of a darkly flowing stream. And a “churchman” down to the river came : When I heard a strange voice call his name. “ Good father, stop ; when you cross this tide You must leave year robes on tiie other side But tbe aged fftlhe.*did not mind, And his long gown floated out behind, As down to the stream his way he look, His pale hands clasping a gilt-edged book. “I’m bound, for heaven, and when I’m (here, I shall want my book of Common Prayer; And though I put on a star y crown, I should feel quite lost without my gowa.” Then he fixed his eye on.the shining track, But Ids gown.was heavy and held him bad ; And the poor old father t ried in vain, A single step in the Hood to grin, I saw him ago hi on the other side, But his silk gown floaic 1 upon the tide ; And. no one ask’d h. (hat blissful spot, Jf he be'ong’cl to “ ■ lie church” or noi. Then clown to the river a Quaker si ray’d His dress of a sober hue wm made ; “My coat and hat must be a! of gray, 1 cannot g« any other way.” When he buUon’cl i«is coao straight up to his chin, And staidly, solemnly, waded in, And his bv«ad-b.lmm’d hat he pulled down tight Over bis forehead, so cold and whi.e. But a strong wind carried away in’s hat; A moment he silently sigh’d over tiun, And I hen, as he gazed to the farther shore, Tbe coat slipp’d off, and was seen no more. As he entered heaven his suit of gray, Went quietly sailing—away, away, And none of the angels questioned him, About the breadth of his beaver’s brim. Next came Dr Watts, with a bundle of Ptalms, Tied nicely up in his aged arms ; And hymns as many, a very wise thing, That the people in heaven “all round” might slug. But I thought that be heav’d an anxious sign, As he saw that the river ran broad and high, And look’d rather sin-prised as one by one, Tbe psalms and hymns in tbe wave went down. An’ after him with his M.S.S., Came Wesley, tbe pattern of godliness ; But be cried “ dear me, what shall I do ? Tbe waler has soaked them through a-.nl through.” And there on the river, far and wide, Away they went down the swollen tide, And the saint astonish’d pass’d throog alone, Without his manuscript, up to the throne. Then, gravely walking, two saints by name, Down to the stream together came, But as they stopp’d at the river’s brink. I saw one saint from the other shrink. “ Sprinkled or plunged, may I ask you friend, How you attain’d to life’s great end ?” “ Thus with a few drops on my brow,” “But I have been clipp’d as you’ll see me now.” “And I really think it will hardly do, As I’m * close communion’ to cross with you ; You’re bound, I know, to the realms of bliss, But you must go that way, and I’ll go this.” Then straightway plunging with all his might, Away to the left, his friend lo tiie right; Apart they went from this world o" sin, But at last together they enter’d in. And now when the river was rolling on, A Presbyterian Church went down. Of women there seem’d a wondrous throng, But the men I could count as they pass’d along. And concerning the road they fsould yever agree, The Old or the New way, wlrch it -should bo ; Nor ever a moment paused to think That both would lead to the river’s brink.

And a sound of murmuring, long and loud, Came ever up from the moving crowd—• “ You’re in the old way, and i’m in the new, That is the false, und tills is the ( rue ;’ Or, “I’m in the old wav, nn 1 you’re ia the new. This is the false and that is the 1 mo.” But the brethren only seemed to speak, Modest the sisters walked, an ! meek ; And if ever one of them chanced to say, What troubles she met with on the wav — How she longed to pass on the other si I*, Nor feared to cross over the swell-ug tide— A voice arose from the brethren then, “ Let no one speak but tbe ‘ holy men’ ; For.have ye not hoard the words of Paul, ‘ Oil, let the women keep silence all’ ?” I watched them long in m« curious dream, Till they stood by the borders of the stream — Then, just as I thought, the two ways mot. But all the brethren were talk’ug yet, And would talk on till the heaving tide Carried them over, side by side ; Side by side, for the way was one, The toilsome journey of life was done. And Priest anc( Quaker, and all who died, Came out alike on the other side ; No forms, or crosses, or books had they, No gowns of silk, nor suit of gray, No creeds to guide them, nor MS3., For all had put on Christ’s righteousness.