Comann Eachdraichd Uig

Do Lorg ‘s Do Bhata Treun

Do lorg ‘s do bhata treun
Tha iad a tabhairt comhfurtachd

Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Psalm XXIII, v4

Do Lorg ‘s Do Bhata Treun was written by Murdo Macdonald of Crola during his stay in Lewis Hospital, while awaiting his operation for goitre. The operation was unsuccessful and he died at the age of 30 in August 1939. Murdo was a remarkable auto-didact and had, shortly before his illness, decided to train for the ministry – but Providence had ordained otherwise. More on Murdo Crola coming soon.

Tha ‘n lorg ‘s am bata treubhach seo
Chomh eufachdach ‘s chomh ullaichte
Thug fialaidheachd ar De dhuinn e
‘Se freagairt neimh d’ ar cunnartan
Rinn Iosa d’ a chrann ceusaidh e
Le eiginn is le fhulaingeas
‘S bhar craobh na beatha a’ gheug ud dhuinn
Mar bhata treun gu’n d’ ullaich E.

‘Se gras ar De am bata treun
A thug E fhein mar dhileab dhuinn
Cha chaill e fheum ‘n uair bhios do cheum
A geilleadh ‘s neart a’ diobradh dhuit
Bheir e oige do ‘n aois
Is soarsa do na priosanaich
Bheir e treoireachadh do dhoill
Gu Tir na Soillse is chi iad ann.

‘Se seo am bata thug a’ bhuaidh
Do sluagh a bh’ air an sarachadh
‘Sann leis a sgoilteadh am Muir Ruadh
‘S a fhuair iad tarsainn sabhailte
An Airc a’ choimhcheangail sa’ chuirt
Bha ‘n tuisear ‘s a’ phoit mhana ann
‘S an t-slat a bhann le toradh ur
Be ‘n lorgsa cruint le blathan dhuit.

An lorg am bata treun tha seo
Cha gheill e nuair a dhearbhar e
‘Se claidheamh spioraid Dhe a th’ann
Chuir faobhar geur neo-chearbach air
Is ged a bhiodh do namh mud’ chuairt
Le bhuairidhean mar armailtean
Gum bris thu trompa chun na buaidh
Is gheibh thu duais na dh’earbas as.

O! faigh am bata seo nad laimh
‘S ged bhiodh do greum air gailneachadh
Ma bhios e agad mar do choir
Lan-fhoghnaidh e gu d’ shabhaladh
Gheibh thu leis troimh dhorus neimh
‘S chan fheum thu dad a phaigheadh ann
Is geibh thu leis gu cathair Dhe
Sruth Iordain fhein cha bhath e thu.

O! faigh am bata seo nad laimh
Is cum do ghreum an gabhadh air
Ged a bhiodh do thuras sgith
Gu’n ruig thu Tir Immanuel
Ni e a chuis air muir ‘s air tir
Is diridh tu gu Paras leis
Ni e ‘n garbh ‘na chomhnard min
‘S cha diobair thu ‘n Gleann Baca leis.

Am bata treun ‘se gealladh Dhe
Bho chathair fein ‘ga charadh riut
Ma dh’earb thu d’anam ris is d’fheum
Nach treug E thu ‘s nach fhag E thu
Bidh sud mar ghuth bho thir tha cein
‘S mar sholas grein ‘sna sgailean dhuit
Tha sud a fosgladh dorus neimh
Dhuit fein ‘s dhomh fein ged ‘s taireil sinn.

Is tric a shaoil an criosdaidh og
‘Nuair fhuair e pog a’ choinneachaidh
Gum biodh iarmailtean gun sgoth
Gun tigeadh gloir a’ chruinneachaidh
Ach thainig dorchadas is ceo
As-creideamh ‘s moran teagamhan
Ach leis an lorg seo mar a choir
A dh’ aindheoin neoil chan eagal dha.

‘Nuair bhios an criosdadh bochd an sas
San lathaich ‘se na shineadh innt’
‘S a thoil ag iarraidh dol an aird
Ach sas a’ pheacaidh fillte uime
Chan e neart a choguis leoint’
Na deoir bheir fuasgladh inntinn dha
Ach lorg ‘Bhuachaill air a thoir
A’ tairsge trocair chinnteach dha.

Na stad a’ caoidh an t-àm a bha
‘S an t-àm a tha chomh freagarrach
Tha ‘n lorg seo fhathast ri do lamh
Is tar e fhad ‘s is urrainn thu
Tha e do gach neach le ‘n aill
Is phaigheadh leis ann an urras e
A’ dol an coinneamh beath is bas
Chaneil nas fhearr mar ullachadh.

Tha aig an lorg seo feartan ur
Tha cumhachd triur na Trianaid leis
Gu’n tig an truaghan leis o’n uir
Gu’m faigh e crun nach criochnaidh leis
Is ged a rannsachadh tu chliu
Cha tuig thu tus a’ dhiamhaireachd
Ach gabh e – ‘s seinnidh tu a chliu
A stigh an cuirt na siorruidheachd.

‘Nuair theid do ghrian san iar san am
Bhios feasgar gann gu dunadh ort
San t-solas fhann nach leur dhuit ceann
Na slighe thall san dùbhlachd ud
‘S tu a sa ghleann ‘s na dubhair teann
Is bann do bheatha sgeoileadh ann
‘Nuair bhios tu fann, thig neart ‘na dheann
Leig cudthrom trom do shaoraidh air.

Murdo Macdonald, 1939