• Do Lorg ‘s Do Bhata Treun

    by  • 1 December 2010 • Bàrdachd, Church, Gàidhlig • 0 Comments

    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

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