Robert Burns Poems

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O THOU, the first, the greatest friend
Of all the human race!
Whose strong right hand has ever been
Their stay and dwelling place!


Before the mountains heav’d their heads
Beneath Thy forming hand,
Before this ponderous globe itself
Arose at Thy command;


That Pow’r which rais’d and still upholds
This universal frame,
From countless, unbeginning time
Was ever still the same.


Those mighty periods of years
Which seem to us so vast,
Appear no more before Thy sight
Than yesterday that’s past.


Thou giv’st the word: Thy creature, man,
Is to existence brought;
Again Thou say’st, “Ye sons of men,
Return ye into nought!”


Thou layest them, with all their cares,
In everlasting sleep;
As with a flood Thou tak’st them off
With overwhelming sweep.


They flourish like the morning flow’r,
In beauty’s pride array’d;
But long ere night cut down it lies
All wither’d and decay’d.

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