Holy Willie's Prayer

I bless and praise thy matchless might,

Whan thousands thou hast left in night,

That I am here afore thy sight,

For gifts an' grace,

A burning an' a shinin light,

To a' this place.

What was I, or my generation,

That I should get such exaltation?

I, wha deserve such 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,

Where 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 Lord, thou kens what zeal I bear,

When drinkers drink, and swearers swear,

And singin there and dancin here,

Wi' great an' sma':

For I am keepit by thy fear,

Free frae them a'.

But yet, O Lord! confess I must,

At times I'm fash'd wi' fleshly lust,

An' sometimes too, wi' warldly trust,

Vile self gets in;

But thou remembers we are dust,

Defil'd in sin.

O Lord! yestreen, thou kens, wi' Meg—

Thy pardon I sincerely beg,

O! may it ne'er be a livin plague

To my dishonour,

An' I'll ne'er lift a lawless leg

Again upon her.

Besides I farther maun allow,

Wi' Lizzie's lass, three times I trow;

But Lord, that Friday I was fou,

When I came near her,

Or else thou kens thy servant true

Wad ne'er hae steer'd her.

May be thou lets this fleshly thorn

Beset thy servant e'en and morn,

Lest he owre high and proud should turn,

'Cause he's sae gifted;

If sae, thy hand maun e'en be borne,

Until thou lift it.

Lord, bless thy chosen in this place,

For here thou hast a chosen race;

But God confound their stubborn face,

And blast their name,

Wha bring thy elders to disgrace,

An' public shame.

Lord, mind Gavin Hamilton's deserts,

He drinks, an' swears, an plays at cartes,

Yet has sae monie takin arts,

Wi' grit an' sma',

Frae God's ain priest the people's hearts

He steals awa'.

An' whan we chasten'd him therefore,

Thou kens how he bred sic a splore,

As set the warld in a roar

O' laughin at us;

Curse thou his basket and his store,

Kail and potatoes.

Lord, hear my earnest cry an' pray'r

Against that presbyt'ry o' Ayr;

Thy strong right hand, Lord, make it bare,

Upo' their heads;

Lord, weigh it down, and dinna spare,

For their misdeeds.

O Lord my God, that glib-tongu'd Aiken,

My very heart and soul are quakin,

To think how we stood sweatin, shakin,

An' p—d wi' dread,

While he, wi' hingin lips an' snakin'

Held up his head.

Lord, in the day of vengeance try him;

Lord, visit them wha did employ him,

And pass not in thy mercy by 'em,

Nor hear their pray'r:

But, for thy people's sake, destroy 'em,

And dinna spare.

But, Lord, remember me and mine

Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine,

That I for gear and grace may shine,

Excell'd by nane,

An' a' the glory shall be thine,

Amen, Amen.