88 CHAMOIS HUNTING. 



The nearer Heaven, more sure you are 

 Your guardian angel cannot be far ; 

 But down below in the crowd he might 

 Now always find you or see aright. 



And mark ! the Devil, who is no fool, 

 Prowls ever there when he wants a tool ; 

 Where men together so thickly herd, 

 He has a handful without -a word. 



But here 't were not worth his while, and all 

 He'd get by coming would be a fall : 

 His God protects him, the hunter knows ; 

 The Devil has none, so down he goes. 



Ay, up on high do I love to be, 

 Where bounds the chamois so wild and free ; 

 Where the marmot whistles from 'neath the stone, 

 There love I to be with my God alone ! 



