"The 'Hector' Voyage

From Scotland's rugged northern slopes,

From mountainside and glen, 

Upborne by ardent 'New World' hopes, 

Trooped down the 'Hector' men.

And as their vessel stood to sea,

On voyage strange and long,

'God of our fathers our God be,'

They sang the grand old song.

For weary weeks the 'Hector' braved

Atlantic's surges high:

The winds and waves around her raved,

They heard no wail or sign.

'O spread Thy covering wings around,'

They breathed in fait and peace,

Until we pass the ocean's bound

'And all our wand'rings cease.'

They prayed amid the tempest's strife,

When death stood by their side,

'Through each perplexing path of life

Our wand'ring footsteps guide.'

When seized by famine, cold and dread,

In anguished faith they cried,

'Give us each day our daily bread

And raiment fit provide.'

Their fathers' God inclined His ear, -

Their fears and dangers past, 

Upon a day of presage clear

They entered port at last;

And knelt on Pictou's favored sod

To vow, as oft before,

That HE should be their 'chosen God

And portion evermore."

-W.E. MacLellan