A verse by an Ayrshire Elder sent to Rev  Mr Steele of Dalry, and read at a bi centenary. Johnson`s Treasury p565-6.

Blow softly, ye breezes, by mountain and moor,
O`er the graves of the Covenant men,
By the muirland and flood that were red with their blood,
Can ye waft the old watchwords again ?
"For Scotland and Christ"  the breezes of old
O`er the wilds of the Westland bore,
From the Lugar and Nith to the Lothian Frith,
And the German Ocean`s shore.
And where`er they blew, a prayer  was breathed
And a holy psalm was sung;
And hands were clasped  and the banner grasped
When the Covenant watchword rang.
O for the brave true hearts of old,
That bled when the banner perished !
O for the Faith that was strong in death -
The Faith that our fathers cherished !
The banner might fall, but the spirit lived,
And liveth for evermore;
And Scotland claims  as her noblest names,
The Covenant Men of yore.


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