John Longmuir

“ O’er craggy peak, and fertile plain,
And every son, to Scotland true,
With rapture hails the Banner blue!
No more we seek our father’s sword,
Let rust its gleam infold;
But we will grasp the living Word,
Till death relax our hold ”

“ What dreads the Crown from those your troopers crush,
⁠What fears the Court from Female Age and Youth?
Will Popish hate in Bladnoch’s billows hush
⁠The elaim of Freedom, or the voice of truth?”
She reads—“No terrors that our path beset
⁠Shall e’er divide us from our Saviour’s love ”

“ THE WIGTOWN MARTYRS.
[Margaret Lanchlison, 63; and Margaret Wilson, 18.]
When Havoe’s hounds, in Seotland's “killing time,”
⁠Deep stained her heather with her martyrs’ blood,
Then soeial worship was a eivil erime,
⁠That filled the dungeon, and abashed the flood.
Two lustrous pearls enrieh Immanuel’s erown,
⁠As these two Marg’rets* join the martyr train;
What tho’ a tyrant’s tool their bodies drown?—
⁠Better they die than Jesus cease to reign. ”