Ilka Blade o' Grass


 

Confide ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind,
And bear ye a' life's changes wi' a calm and tranquil mind;
Tho' press'd and hemm'd on ev'ry side, ha'e faith and ye'll win through,
For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

Gin reft frae friends, or crost in love, as whiles nae doubt ye've been,
Grief lies deep hidden in your heart, or tears flow free your een;
Believe it for the best, an' trow there's gude in store for you,
For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

In lang lang days o' Simmer, when the clear an' cludless sky
Refuses ae wee drap o' rain to Nature parch'd an' dry,
The genial night wi' balmy breath, gars verdure spring anew,
An' ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.

So lest 'mid Fortune's sunshine we should feel owre proud an' hie,
An' in our pride forget to wipe the tear frae poortith's e'e;
Some wee dark clude o' sorrow come, we ken na whence or how,
But ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew.


-- James Ballantine

 

 

 

 



 

 

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