ts an boulders;--
Ther's a big responsibility
Rests on a parson's shoulders.

But oft ther labor's all in vain,
Noa matter ha persistent;
Becoss ther taichin an ther lives
Are hardly quite consistent.

Ther's nowt can shake ther faith in God,
When bad is growing worse;
An nowt abate ther trust, unless
It chonce to touch ther purse.

They say, "Who giveth to the poor,
Lends to the Lord," but yet,
They all seem varry anxious,
Net to get the Lord in debt.

But wi my fooilish nooations
Mayhap yo'll net agree,--
Its like enuff 'at awm mistaen,--
But it seems that way to me.

If yo hear a clivver sarmon,
Yor attention it command's,
If yo know at th' praicher's heart's as white
As what he keeps his hands.

Ther's too mich love ov worldly ways,
An too mich affectation;
They work i'th' vinyard a few days,
Then hint abaat vacation.

He has to have a holiday
Because he's worked soa hard;--
Well, aw allus think 'at labor
Is desarvin ov reward.

What matters, tho' his little flock
A shepherd's care is wantin:
Old Nick may have his run o'th' fold
Wol he's off galavantin.

Aw dooant say 'at yo're sich a one,
Yo seem a gradely sooart;
But if yo' th' Gospel armour don,
Yo'll find it isn't spooart.

Dooant sell yor heavenly birthright,
For a mess ov worldly pottage:
But spend less time i'th' squire's hall
An moor i'th' poor man's cottage.

Point aght the way an walk in it,
They'll follow, one bi one,
An when yo've gained yor journey's end,
Yo'll hear them words, "Well done."

A Christian soldier has to be,
Endurin, bold an brave;
Strong in his faith he'll sewerly win,
As sewer as my name's Dave."

Tom Grit.

He'd a breet ruddy face an a laffin e'e,
An his shoolders wer brooad as brooad need be;
For each one he met he'd a sally o' wit,
For a jovjal soul wor this same Tom Grit.
He climb'd up to his waggon's heigh seeat wi' pride,
For he'd bowt a new horse 'at he'd nivver tried;
But he had noa fear, for he knew he could drive
As weel, if net better, nor th' best man alive.
Soa he sed, as he gethered his reins in his hand,
An prepared to start off on a journey he'd planned;
But some 'at stood by shook ther heeads an lukt grave,
For they'd daats ha that mettlesum horse might behave.
It set off wi' a jerk when Tom touched it wi' th' whip,
But his arms they wor strong, an like iron his grip,
An he sooin browt it daan to a