fairest Welsh, having like all the other apostles the miraculous gift of
tongues. The good vicar did more. In the short intervals of relaxation
which he allowed himself from the labour of the ministry during those
years he composed a number of poetical pieces, which after his death were
gathered together into a volume and published, under the title of
"Canwyll y Cymry; or, the Candle of the Welshman." This work, which has
gone through almost countless editions, is written in two common easy
measures, and the language is so plain and simple that it is intelligible
to the homeliest hind who speaks the Welsh language. All of the pieces
are of a strictly devotional character, with the exception of one,
namely, a welcome to Charles, Prince of Wales, on his return from Spain,
to which country he had gone to see the Spanish ladye whom at one time he
sought as bride. Some of the pieces are highly curious, as they bear
upon events at present forgotten; for example, the song upon the year
1629, when the corn was blighted throughout the land, and "A Warning to
the Cumry to repent when the Plague of Blotches and Boils was prevalent
in London." Some of the pieces are written with astonishing vigour, for
example, "The Song of the Husbandman," and "God's Better than All," of
which last piece the following is a literal translation:--

"GOD'S BETTER THAN ALL.

"God's better than heaven or aught therein,
Than the earth or aught we there can win,
Better than the world or its wealth to me--
God's better than all that is or can be.
Better than father, than mother, than nurse,
Better than riches, oft proving a curse,
Better than Martha or Mary even--
Better by far is the God of heaven.
If God for thy portion thou hast ta'en
There's Christ to support thee in every pain,
The world to respect thee thou wilt gain,
To fear thee the fiend and all his train.
Of the best of portions thou choice didst make
When thou the high God to thyself didst take,
A portion which none from thy grasp can rend
Whilst the sun and the moon on their course shall wend
When the sun grows dark and the moon turns red,
When the stars shall drop and millions dread,
When the earth shall vanish with its pomps in fire,
Thy portion still shall remain entire.
Then let not thy heart, though distressed, complain!
A hold on thy portion firm maintain.