Among the documents gifted to New College by the ‘Class of ’38’, who continued to meet annually for the lion’s share of the twentieth century, are a selection of poems that reflect on the author’s ministry over the twentieth century. Entitled ‘Here’s to Us’ and ‘New Horizons’, the two poems by ‘ganger’ (as they dubbed themselves) Archie Grant are decidedly different in tone.
Penned in 1961, ‘Here’s to Us’ is a self-congratulatory (tongue-in-cheek?) anthem that celebrates the legacy of the gangers, a ‘heavenly band’, who successfully revived the Kirk. Having met together in ‘a building gray and tall’, they ‘saved the Kirk in Scotland, and have told her what to do’.
Composed 15 years later, ‘The New Horizon’ strikes a decidedly more morose note. Reflecting upon the forty years that had passed since the group left New College, the author questions whether their ministries have lived up to their initial hopes. This distinct shift in tone is perhaps familiar to many who find themselves looking back critically over their accomplishments as retirement looms. A sense of disappointment – even disillusionment – pervades the poem, which asks ‘Now that the road is ending, is there anything to show? / For what we’ve done these forty years? What came from hearts aglow / … Alas, the hopes of early years have hardly been fulfilled’.
Written in the late 1970’s, ‘The New Horizon’ was arguably a product of its time. Lacking the self-confident triumphalism of previous decades, its author had witnessed the increasing secularisation of the 1960s – the era that marked, as Callum Brown argues, ‘the death of Christian Britain’.
Here’s to Us
(On the 25th Anniversary of our New College Year: 25/5/61)
In the early Nineteen thirties when the church was down and out,
The rot had covered Scotland: men could scarcely raise a shout.
Though the clergy worked like Trojans, and slaved as good men should,
The bats were in the belfry, and the worms were in the wood.
In the early Nineteen thirties, there remained a loyal core,
But the pious kept recalling all the splendid days of yore,
When the queue for Free St. George’s stretched as far as Murrayfield,
With a church so strong and mighty that the devil had to yield.
As Peter looked from heavens gates, he shed a bitter tear.
“Alas,” he cried, “Three times alas! The times are ill, I fear.
The church is done. Its days are o’er, its pillars falling fast.
To finish it, ‘twould only need one cold and stormy blast.”
He there and then decided to convene the heavenly band.
The summons went forth urgently, with speed from hand to hand.
The cherubim and seraphim, the angels everyone.
Conferred together sadly to decide what could be done.
“My brothers,” stated Peter, “Things have reached a pretty pass.
The Kirk in noble Scotland is now level with the grass.
‘Tis not our purpose here today to censure or to blame,
But the teaching in the colleges is really rather tame!
“We are here to find a method to revive the church’s life.
Shall it be by persecution, or by stirring up a strife?
Shall we ask cooperation from our neighbour down below?
He’s good at jagging men awake, when things are pretty low.”
“The fact remains that in our day, the church is down and out.
The rot has covered Scotland. Men can scarcely raise a shout.
Though the clergy work like Trojans, and slave as good men should.
The bats are in the belfry, and the worms are in the wood.”
Having set the ball a-rolling, Peter wiped a fevered brow.
He scratched his head, hoped fervently that someone with know-how
Would propose a neat solution for the church in such a plight,
To free it from its bats and worms, and set the whole thing right.
Discussion waxed most violently, and many spoke their views.
Proposals were as varied as the range of rainbow hues.
Some felt the time had really come for calling John Knox back,
To blast men with his trumpet voice, and stir the faint and slack.
But others thought an orator might overplay his hand,
And what the times demanded was a good and faithful band,
Just like the first apostles, who had done a splendid job,
And persevered through thick and thin, despite the careless mob.
‘Twas then agreed to speed a call from East unto the West,
From North to South, and everywhere, appealing for the best.
Some thirty men responded, and prepared to wage the fight,
To take their stand, and battle on for God and for the right.
And so we came together in a building gray and tall,
With one desire, and only one, to save men from the Fall.
We set ourselves, with hearts intent, a noble part to play,
To raise the Kirk, revive the faith, and bring again the day.
Our studies o’er, we sallied forth anew to face the world.
In many parts, in different spheres, Christ’s banner we unfurled.
Then fainting souls felt once again the glowing of the sun,
And by that light became convinced the church was far from done.
The lesson, my dear brothers, is as plain as plain can be.
‘Tis thanks to us that now the Kirk enjoys its liberty.
‘Tis thanks to us the bats have gone and fled to other parts.
‘Tis thanks to us the Kirk’s renewed, and brave are now men’s hearts.
Here’s to us; none are like us; we are all good men and true.
We’ve saved the Kirk in Scotland, and have told her what to do.
As Job so aptly put it, though he knew not what he said,
“We are the men. Wisdom will fade for ever, when we’re dead.”
A. G. H. Grant. 19th May 1961.
The Next Horizon
(To commemorate 40 years on for the 1935-38 New College Divinity Class)
Now that the road is ending, is there anything to show?
For what we’ve done these forty years? What came from hearts aglow
To save the Kirk in Scotland? Have we led men to the feet
Of Christ, the light of all mankind, whose service is so sweet?
Alas, the hopes of early years have hardly been fulfilled.
We’ve done our best. We lit a torch. Some devils we have killed.
The outcome of our sowing is indeed a harvest bare.
And in amongst the finest wheat has grown many a tare.
No doubt this is the lot of all who start with ideals high.
At journey’s end they see what’s done and heave a bitter sigh.
And yet the wish was in our heart to build God’s Kirk anew.
May he regard the brave intent and not the conquests few.
May he regard all that we’ve done in not too poor a light.
And may he blow with gentle breath the chaff far out of sight.
May he forgive our folly, all our sin and all our pride.
It went with eager longing to stand firmly on Christ’s side.
Then when the shadows lengthen on our little day of life,
And all the toil is over, all the conflict, all the strife,
May God in love and mercy give to each of us a niche
Within the city of his peace, and life that’s full and rich.
There after resting for a while we’ll gird ourselves again.
We’ll buckle on our breastplates and march out to joyous strain.
We’ll sally forth in some far place beyond both time and space
To fight the battle of the Lord and win them by his grace.
Archie Grant.
2nd November, 1978.