FIAL'ACHD NAN AFRICANACH.
Na gaothan shéid gu coimheach, fuar,
A's bhrùchd a nuas an t-uisge trom;
An duine geal a stigh cha d'fhuair,
Ge b'olc a thuar a mach air lom.

An ciar' an anmoich shuidh e sìos
A ghabhail fois fo sgàile craoibh';
Oir bha e fann, a's làn do sgios-
Bu dubhach, dìblidh cor an aoidh.'
O! cha 'n 'eil aige màthair thlàth
A bheir o ùth na bà am bliochd ;
No céile 'sheallas ris gu blàth,
'S a mheileas dha an gràn le h-iochd.

LUINNEAG.

Gu'n gabh sinn ris le iochd a's bàigh-
Gu'n nochd sin càirdeas dha a's miagh:
Cha 'n fhaigh e bainn' o 'mhàthair àigh,
A's céile gràidh cha toir dha biadh.

REUL BHETLEHEIM.

'N uair tha reulta àrd nan speur,

A' dealradh le chéil' san iarmalt shuas;

'N am measg gu léir tha lòchrann iùil,

A thairneas sùil a' pheacaich thruaigh.

Eisd éisd! do Dhia tha cho'sheirm bhinn,
O reulta grinn a' ghuirm bhrait àird;

is a translation of the song. The following is another version of it, from the pen of John Struthers, author of "The Peasant's

Death-Bed," &c., &c.

The winds they were roaring, the rains they were pouring,
When lonely the white man a wonder to see:

Both hungry and weary, desponding and dreary,
He came and he sat in the shade of our tree.

No mother is bye him, with milk to supply him;
He wanders an outcast, how sad must he be?

Even corn, could he find it, he has no wife to grind it;
Let us pity the white man, no mother has he.

But one alone the Saviour speaks,
It is the star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud, the night was dark;
The ocean yawn'd,—and rudely blow'd
The wind that toss'd my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze,
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem;
When suddenly a star arose,

It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all,
It bade my dark forebodings cease;

And through the storm, and danger's thrall,
It led me to the port of

peace.

Now, safely moor'd-my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,

For ever and for evermore,

The Star-The Star of Bethlehem!

THE FOUNTAIN.

"In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and for uncleanness."-Zechariah, xiii. 1.

O the Lamb! the bleeding Lamb!

The Lamb on Calvary;

The Lamb that was slain;

And has risen again,

And now intercedes for me. *

THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood
Drawn from Emmanuel's veins ;
And sinners plung'd beneath that flood,

Lose all their guilty stains.

O the Lamb, &c.

* When the late Mr Duncan Macdougall, Tiree, translated this Hymn to Gaelic, he adapted it to an original but most touch

Tha h-aon a mhàin 'toirt sgeul mu Chriosd,
Reul Bhetleheim! Reul an àigh!

Thuit dhomh uair bhi mach air chuan,

Bha 'n oi'che duaichnidh-shéid a' ghaoith;
Dh'at an cuan, 's bha sìopan fairg',

Ag ia'dh gu garbh m'an eithear fhaoin.

Ghlac uamhann eagail m'anam bochd,
'S mi mach air faontra' fad o thràigh;
'N uair dh'éirich Reul rinn dhomh-sa iùl,
Reul Bhetleheim! Reul an àigh.

Mo sholus ait, mo lòchrann gaoil,

An sealladh faoilt do m' chridhe sgìth,
O ghabhadh cuain, 's o ghlaic a' bhàis,
'S tu thàlaidh mi gu caladh sìth.

'S a chaladh ait so ni mi tàmh,

Gun sgìos, gun phràmh gu'n seinn mi cliù;
O'n àm so mach gu siorruidh buan,

Do Reul nam buadh a rinn domh iùl.

AN TOBAR

"Anns an là sin bidh tobar air fhosgladh do thigh Dhaibhidh, agus do luchd-àiteachaidh Ierusaleim, air son peacaidh agus air son neo-ghloine."-Sechariah, xiii. 1.

Och an t-Uan! 's fhuil a' sileadh a nuas;

An t-Uan air Calbhari,

An t-Uan a chasgradh gu bàs,

'S a rìs a dh'éirich an àird,

Nis a' tagradh le gràdh mo shìth.

THA tobar ann 's e làn do dh'fhuil
Tha tàirnt' o chuislibh Ios';

Gach peacach 'thilgear sios fo'n tuil,

Glan buileach thig e nios.

Och an t-Uan, &c.

ing Air; and prefixed a Seisd, or Chorus, to it. He also prefixed the substance of that Chorus to the original.

The dying thief rejoic❜d to see
That fountain in his day;
And there have I, as vile as he,
Wash'd all my sins away.

O the Lamb, &c.

Dear dying Lamb! thy precious blood
Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransom'd church of God

Be sav'd to sin no more.

O the Lamb, &c.

E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

O the Lamb, &c:

Then in a nobler, sweeter song

I'll sing thy pow'r to save,

When this poor lisping, stam'ring tongue

Lies silent in the grave.

O the Lamb, &c,

Lord, I believe thou hast prepar'd (Unworthy though I be)

For me a blood-bought free reward—

A golden harp for me.

O the Lamb, &c.

'Tis strung, and tun'd, for endless years,

And form'd by pow'r divine;

To sound in God the Father's ears

No other name but thine.

O the Lamb, &c.

HAPPINESS.

One morning, in the month of May,

I wander'd o'er the hill;

Tho' nature all around was gay,
My heart was heavy still.

Can God, I thought, the just, the great,
These meaner creatures bless,

Rinn an gadaich' dàn' ri uchd a' bhàis
Mòr ghàirdeachas na brìgh;

'S nach fhaodar leams', co'ionnan coirbt',
Mo pheac'an ionnlad innt'.

Och an t-Uan, &c

Och Uain a ghràidh! t' fhuil phrìseil, bhlàth Cha chaill gu bràth a brìgh,

Gus am bi 'mhuinntir shaort' air fad

O'm peac❜an glan d'a trìd.

Och an t-Uan, &c.

On' dhearc mo shùil ri d' chreuchdaibh ciùirt' A' brùchdadh cungaidh slàint',

Gràdh saoraidh an Uain mo cheòl 's mo

'S a bhios gu uair mo bhàis.

[bhuaidh,

Och an t-Uan, &c.

'N sin seinneam òran 's milse ceòl

Air cumhachd mòr do ghràis,

'N uair bhios an teanga mhanntach, thruagh Gu balbh 'san uaigh na tàmh.

Och an t-Uan, &c.

Dhe creideam fein, gu'n d' ulmhaich thu, (Neo-airidh 's mar tha mi)

'S ann air mo shon, luach fola saorSeadh, clàrsach òir dhomh fein.

Och an t-Uan, &c.

Chuir cumhachd mòr gach teud air dòigh,
Gu ceòl air feadh gach ré,

Gu seirm 'an cluasan Righ nan sluagh,
'S gun ainm ach Uan na réit'.

Och an t-Uan, &c.

SONAS.

Dh'fhalbh mi moch sa' Chéitean chiùin
Air chuairt ri uchd nan tom;
Bha'n saoghal àillidh, aoibhinn, ait,
Mo chridhe 'mhàin bha trom.

A' bheil gach àite, smuaintich mi,
Le maitheas Dé cho làn,