THE COVENANTERS by Wilbur D. Nisbet, great-grandson of Hugh and Jane Harvey McMillan, of South Carolina. You cannot understand us, you folk of changing creeds, Who weave a changing fabric to fit tomorrow’s needs; You cannot understand us; the path is rough and high And you would turn out from it to smoother ways near by But through the clash and clamor of your disputing words We hear the olden sayings of them that tended herds, And when the ancient dogma you hold of small account We hear the primal message that thundered from the mount A covenant we cherish—a covenant of old; A covenant first fashioned where Jordan’s waters rolled; It throbbed from David’s harpstrings by the eternal plan, Unchanging and unceasing—the covenant with man. They cannot understand us, the folk of changing creeds Who weave a mingled fabric to fit tomorrow’s needs— But we have seen tomorrows grow from the yesterdays While man-made creeds have faded into the distant haze. 4
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