St Margaret, the winds of yore
Words by Canon J Gray
Saint Margaret, the winds of yore
Oppressed the bark that carried thee
And drove a treasure from the sea
To Scotland’s wild and barren shore.
The providence of God is strong
To rule the tempest and the tide;
It gave the king a royal bride
And thee a folk to dwell among.
The beggar babe of Bethlehem
Had not a thing to call his own;
He set a pearl in Malcolm’s crown,
On Scotland’s brow a diadem.
Of virtue who could undertake
To tell thy sweet unending store,
And all thy love for Scotland’s poor
And poverty for Jesu’s sake?
Beseech the King of endless days
To bless the land in breadth and length,
To clothe its sons with godly strength
And valiant women with their praise.