Keeper1st | My Ain Countrie -- Scottish-American Hymn @Keeper1st | Uploaded March 2017 | Updated October 2024, 4 days ago.
This hymn dates from the early 1860s. The poem originally was by Mary L. Demarest, with music added by Ione T. Hanna from what I understand. I'm not religious, but I like language, and this has a wonderful example of Scots dialect in it. The poem was inspired by the story of a Scottish woman in America who pined greatly for her homeland.
The music is based on a four-part vocal arrangement, though I have the piano play the soprano part an octave higher and the bass part an octave lower, for a more robust sound and eliminating unisons which of course lessen the sound on a piano (thankfully the alto and tenor never sing unison).
The full words:
I am far frae my hame, an' I'm weary aftenwhiles
For the langed-for hame-bringin' an' my Faither's welcome smiles.
An' I'll ne'er be fu' content until mine een do see
The gowden gates o' heav'n an' my ain countrie.
The earth is deck'd wi' flowers, mony tinted, fresh an' gay
The birdies warble blithely for my Faither made them sae.
But these sights an' these soun's will as naething be to me
When I hear the angels singin' in my ain countrie.
I've His gude word o' promise that some gladsome day, the King
To His ain royal palace His banished hame will bring.
Wi' een an' wi' hert rinnin' ower, we shall see
The King in His beauty, in oor ain countrie.
My sins hae been mony, an' my sorrows hae been sair
But there they'll never vex me, nor be remembered mair
For His bluid has made me white, and His han' shall dry me e'e
When He brings me hame at last to my ain countrie.
Sae little noo I ken o' yon blessed bonnie place
I only ken it's Hame, whaur we shall see His face.
It wad surely be eneuch forever mair to be
In the glory o' His presence, in oor ain countrie.
Like a bairn to his mither, a wee birdie to its nest
I wad fain be gangin' noo unto my Saviour's breast
For He gathers in His bosom witless worthless lambs like me
An' carries them Himsel' to His ain countrie.
He is faithfu' that hath promised, an' He'll surely come again
He'll keep His tryst wi' me, at what hour I dinna ken.
But He bids me still to wait, an' ready aye to be
To gang at ony moment to my ain countrie.
Sae I'm watching aye and singin' o' my hame as I wait
For the soun'ing o' His footfa' this side the gowden gate.
God gie His grace to ilka ane wha' listens noo to me
That we a' may gang in gladness to oor ain countrie.
-- --
If you're curious about the pronunciations, have a listen to YouTuber Jock Stewart Redmond, who carries this very dialect, which makes him a joy to listen to for a language buff like me. youtube.com/channel/UCRoyLQDV9D9gXZeScwQ-x1Q
This hymn dates from the early 1860s. The poem originally was by Mary L. Demarest, with music added by Ione T. Hanna from what I understand. I'm not religious, but I like language, and this has a wonderful example of Scots dialect in it. The poem was inspired by the story of a Scottish woman in America who pined greatly for her homeland.
The music is based on a four-part vocal arrangement, though I have the piano play the soprano part an octave higher and the bass part an octave lower, for a more robust sound and eliminating unisons which of course lessen the sound on a piano (thankfully the alto and tenor never sing unison).
The full words:
I am far frae my hame, an' I'm weary aftenwhiles
For the langed-for hame-bringin' an' my Faither's welcome smiles.
An' I'll ne'er be fu' content until mine een do see
The gowden gates o' heav'n an' my ain countrie.
The earth is deck'd wi' flowers, mony tinted, fresh an' gay
The birdies warble blithely for my Faither made them sae.
But these sights an' these soun's will as naething be to me
When I hear the angels singin' in my ain countrie.
I've His gude word o' promise that some gladsome day, the King
To His ain royal palace His banished hame will bring.
Wi' een an' wi' hert rinnin' ower, we shall see
The King in His beauty, in oor ain countrie.
My sins hae been mony, an' my sorrows hae been sair
But there they'll never vex me, nor be remembered mair
For His bluid has made me white, and His han' shall dry me e'e
When He brings me hame at last to my ain countrie.
Sae little noo I ken o' yon blessed bonnie place
I only ken it's Hame, whaur we shall see His face.
It wad surely be eneuch forever mair to be
In the glory o' His presence, in oor ain countrie.
Like a bairn to his mither, a wee birdie to its nest
I wad fain be gangin' noo unto my Saviour's breast
For He gathers in His bosom witless worthless lambs like me
An' carries them Himsel' to His ain countrie.
He is faithfu' that hath promised, an' He'll surely come again
He'll keep His tryst wi' me, at what hour I dinna ken.
But He bids me still to wait, an' ready aye to be
To gang at ony moment to my ain countrie.
Sae I'm watching aye and singin' o' my hame as I wait
For the soun'ing o' His footfa' this side the gowden gate.
God gie His grace to ilka ane wha' listens noo to me
That we a' may gang in gladness to oor ain countrie.
-- --
If you're curious about the pronunciations, have a listen to YouTuber Jock Stewart Redmond, who carries this very dialect, which makes him a joy to listen to for a language buff like me. youtube.com/channel/UCRoyLQDV9D9gXZeScwQ-x1Q
