'N sin fairge Ghenasaret dh'éirich gu borb--
Gu h-uaibhreach, atmhor, le ainneart na stoirm.

Bha doilleireachd chianail a mach air a' chuan,-
'S tein-adhair gu h-iargalt' a' soillseach' nan stuadh,
Air eunlaith na mara gu léir a' cur sgàth,

'S iad 'teicheadh le cabhaig gu fasgadh na tràgh'.

Aon eithear gu sgairteil a' gleachd a's a' strìth-
Ri àrd-thonnaibh sgaiteach is confhaiche lìth;
'Tha 'bristeadh a steach oirr' na mill nach 'eil faoin,
'S a' fàsgadh a h-aisnibh le claidein, 's le saoth'ir.
Ge b'eòlach an sgiobadh air ànradh 's air spàirn,
Lion uamhann an cridhe, a's mheataich an càil
Aig faicinn nan tonnan a' buadh'chadh 'an neart,
'S a' bagairt gu lonach an slugadh mar chreach.
'An deireadh na luinge bha Iosa 'na shuain,
Gun eagal, gun ghiorag 'an eudan an Uain;
Bu shamhach a chadal, a's b' fhìnealt a ghnùis
'N uair thàinig le cabhaig an sgiobadh g'a dhùsg'.

Le oillt air an spiorad, a's buaireas 'n an gruaidh:-
"Fòir oirnne (a deir iad), fòir oirnne gu luath.”
Chlos gàirich na gaillinn, 's a nuallanaich shearbh,
'N uair a chual' i a smachd-ghuth, "Bi ciùin, a's bi balbh."
A' ghaoth 'bha air mhire a nis tha fo chìs-
An fhairge 'bha 'milleadh a nis tha aig sìth :
Fo cheannsal an Ti sin 'tha 'cuartach' na ghlaic
Na gaoith 'n uair is treis' i, 's ga cumail fo smachd.

Mar so anns gach àmhghar tha'n Slànuighear dlùth-
'N uair dh'éighear gu h-àrd ris tha blàthas 'na shùil;
Le 'chumhachd 's le 'thròcair ni Treun-fhear nam buadh
Làn dìdein a dheònach' gu gràsmhor d'a shluagh.

'An turas na beatha tha dosguinn gu leòir,
Air beanntan 's tric ceathach, air athar 's tric neòil
A tha 'folach gu doilleir glan imeachd na gréin',
'S a' bacadh an eilthirich siubhal gu réidh.

Mar sin tha gach deuchainn 'an saoghal nan deur

'Chum an seann-duin' a phianadh 's a chlaoidheadh gu geur, Gus am fàs e 'na naoidhean-'na nuadh-dhuin' 'an Criosd, A's an gluais e le h-aoibhneas 'an slighe na sìth.

Ach an àmhuinn ged 's teinnteach, 's ged 's nuallach an cuan, Tha 'n Slànuighear cinnteach d'a ghealladh gach uair,"'N uair théid thu troi' thuiltean cha 'n fholaich iad thu, 'S na lasraichean guineach cha dochainn, 's cha chiùrr."

He sees that all is done in love,
To raise his heart and thought above;
Where sin and care no more annoy,
But all is pure and lasting joy.

PAUL'S VOYAGE.

If Paul in Cæsar's court must stand,
He need not fear the sea;
Secured from harm on every hand
By the divine decree.

Although the ship in which he sailed,
By dreadful storms was tossed;
The promise over all prevailed,

And none of them were lost.

Jesus, the God whom Paul adored,
Who saves in time of need;
Was then confessed by all on board,
A present help indeed.

Though neither sun nor stars were seen,
Paul knew the Lord was near;
And faith preserved his soul serene,
When others shook for fear.

Believers thus are tossed about,

On life's tempestuous main ;
But grace assures, beyond a doubt,
They shall their port attain.

They must-they shall appear one day,
Before their Saviour's throne ;
The storms they meet with by the way,
But make his power known.

Their passage lies across the brink,
Of many a threatening wave;
The world expects to see them sink,
But Jesus lives to save.

Lord, though we are but feeble worms,
Yet since thy word is past,

We'll venture through a thousand storms,
To see thy face at last.

'S 'n uair thig thu gu bruachaibh Iordain a' bhaâis,
A's tonnan a' cuartachadh t'anama le gåir,
Chi thu uabhar an t-srutha ag aomadh air falbh
Ag cluinntinn a' ghutha, "Bi ciùin, a's bi balbh."

TURUS-CUAIN PHOIL.

M'as éiginn gu'n téid Pòl do'n Roimh,
Cha'n aobhar oillt dha'n cuan;
Oir tha e tearuint' air gach laimh
Le òrdugh Dhé nach gluais.

Ged chaidh an long 'san robh e 'luasg'
'S an doininn chruaidh a bh' ann ;
An gealladh thar gach ni thug buaidh,
'S cha deachaidh h-aon a chall.

Iosa an Dia d'am buineadh Pòl,

A dh'fhuasglas anns gach cruas;
Dh'aidich gach aon a bha air bòrd
Mar chobhair dheas 'san uair.

Ged nach robh 'ghrian no reultan ris
Bha earbsa Phòil 'an Dia;

'S ghleidh creideamh 'anam ciùin gun sgàth,
'N uair chrithich cach le fiamh.

Na naoimh mar so tha air an luasg'

Air chuan na beatha bhos;

Ach gràs tha 'deanamh cinnteach dhoibh
Gu'n ruig iad caladh fois.

Tha 'n latha 'tighinn anns an seas
Iad uil' aig cathair Chriosd ;
'S bidh 'n stoirm a th'aca 'leigeil ris
A chumhachd mòr g'an dion.

'N an cuairt a' dol roimh'n bheatha so
Bidh aca iomadh cràdh ;

Tha'n saogh'l an dùil gu'n téid an call,
Ach gleidhidh Ios' iad slàn.

A Dhé, ged 's cnuimhean sinn tha faoin,
Tha d' fhocal naomh air dòigh ;
'S théid sinn roimh nhìle stoirm a chum
Gu'n ruig sinn thu fa-dheòidh.

MACKRIMMON'S LAMENT....

Macleod's wizard flag from the grey castle sallies,
The rowers are seated, unmoored are the galleys;
Gleam war-axe and broad-sword, clang target and quiver,
As Mackrimmon plays, " Farewell to Dunvegan forever!"
"Farewell to each cliff, on which breakers are foaming;
Farewell each dark glen in which red deer are roaming;
Farewell lonely Skye, to lake, mountain, and river;
Macleod may return, but Mackrimmon shall never!
"Farewell the bright clouds that on Culen are sleeping;
Farewell the bright eyes in the Fort that are weeping;
To each minstrel delusion farewell! and forever-
Mackrimmon departs to return to you never.

"The Banshee's wild voice sings the death-dirge before me,
And the pall of the dead for a mantle hangs o'er me;
But my heart shall not flag, and my nerve shall not quiver,
Though devoted I go-to return again never!"

Too oft shall the note of Mackrimmon's bewailing
Be heard when the Gael on their exile are sailing
"Dear land! to the shores, whence unwilling we sever,
Return-return-return we shall never!"

* Mackrimmon, hereditary piper to the Laird of Macleod, is said to have composed this Lament when the Clan was about to embark to join the Royalists in 1745. The Minstrel was impressed with a belief, which the event verified, that he would never return. These verses are well-known throughout the Highlands, being the strains with which the emigrants, for Canada and Australia, often take leave of their native shore; they have also been the coronach which accompanyed the remains of many a brave Highlander, in bygone ages, to their last resting place. Sir Walter Scott was so moved by the overwhelming pathos of these verses in the original, that he executed the above translation. Dr M'Leod of St. Columba gave another version of this Lament, or rather the response to it, in the "Mountain Visitor," and introduced it by a thrilling notethe note and version are as follow.

'N uair a chaidh MacLeoid Dhunbheagain a mach bliadhnaThearlaich leis an arm dhearg, bha 'chuid bu lionmhoire do'n chinneadh 'n an cridheachan le Tearlach, agus n'am b'urrainn iad 's esan a leanadh iad. B'ann 's an rùn so bha Dònull Bàn Mac. ruimein. Mu'n d'fhàg iad an Dùn thuirt Macruimein gu'n robh fios aige nach tilleadh e; agus an latha thog na Leòdaich orra mach o Dhunbheagain, agus mnathan na tìre a' gul 's a' caoidh, 's ann an sin a chluich e am port tiamhaidh, brònach sin," Cha till mi tuille," agus b'fhìor mar a thubhairt e: anns a' cheud bhlàr a chuireadh thuit e, agus cha do mharbhadh duin' ach e fein. Bha

CUMHA MHICRUIMEIN.

Bratach bhuadhail Mhicleoid o'n tùr mhòr a' lasadh,

'S luchd-iomraidh nan ràmh 'greasadh bhàrc thar a' ghlas chuain; Bogha, sgiath, 's claidheamh-mòr, 's tuagh gu leòn, airm nam fleasgach,

'S Macruimein 'cluith cuairt, "Soraidh bhuan le Dunbheagain," Slan leis gach creag ård ris 'm bheil gàirich àrd-thonnan ; Slan leis gach gleann fàs 's an dean cràchd-dhaimh an langan; Eilein Sgiathanaich àigh! slàn le d' bheanntan 's guirm' fireach ; Tillidh, dh'fhaoidte, Macleoid, ach cha bheò Macruimein! "Soraidh bhuan do'n gheal-cheò a tha 'còmhdachadh Chuilinn ! Slàn leis gach blåth shùil 'th'air an Dùn, 's iad a' tùireadh ; Soraidh-bhuan do'n luchd-ciùil 's tric chuir sunnd orm a's tioma; Sheòl Macruimein thar sàil' 's gu là bhràth cha till tuille! "Nualan allt' na piob-mhòr 'cluiche marbh-rann an fhilidh, Agus dearbh-bhrat a' bhàis mar fhalluing aig' uime; Ach cha mheataich mo chrìdh', a's cha ragaich mo chuislean, Ged dh'fhalbham le m' dheoin 's fios nach till mi chaoidh tuille!" 'S tric a chluinnear fuaim bhinn, caoidh thiom-chri' Mhicruimein, 'N uair bhios Gàidheil a' falbh, thar na fairge 'g an iomain "O! chaomh thìr ar gràidh, o do thràigh 's rag ar n-imeachd, Och! cha till-cha till-Och! cha till sinn tuille!

leannan aig Dònull Bàn 's an Dùn, 's 'n uair a chual i 'm port chuir i na rannan a leanas r'a chéile:

Dh'iadh ceò nan stùchd mu aodann Chuilinn,
A's sheinn a' Bhean-shìth a torman mulaid:
Tha sùilean gorm, ciùin 's an Dùn a' sileadh,
O n' thriall thu uainn 's nach till thu tuille.

Cha till, cha till, cha till Macruimein,
'An cogadh no'n sìth cha till e tuille;
Le airgiod no nì cha till Macruimein,
Cha till gu bràch gu là na cruinne.
Tha osag nam beann gu fann ag imeachd,
Gach sruthan 's gach allt gu mall le bruthach;
Tha ialt' nan speur feadh gheugan dubhach,
A'caoidh gu'n d' fhalbh 's nach till thu tuille.
Tha 'n fhairge fa-dheoidh làn bròin a's mnlaid,
Tha 'm bata fo 'seòl ach dhiùlt i siubhal;
Tha gàir nan tonn, le fuam neo-shubhach,
Ag ràdh gu'n d' fhalbh 's nach till thu tuille.
Cha chluinnear do cheòl 's an Dùn mu fheasgar,
'S mactalla nam mùr le mùirn 'ga freagairt:
Gach fleasgach a's òigh gun cheòl, gun bheadradh,
O'n thriall thu uainn 's nach till thu tuille.