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Page 139 - ... how poor religion's pride, In all the pomp of method and of art, When men display to congregations wide Devotion's...
Page 140 - An honest man's the noblest work of God ;" And, certes,* in fair virtue's heavenly road, The cottage leaves the palace far behind. What is a lordling's pomp ? A cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind! Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined ! O Scotia, my dear, my native soil!
Page 140 - And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride, Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best, For them and for their little ones provide; But, chiefly, in their hearts with Grace Divine preside.
Page 138 - Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays; Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing,' That thus they all shall meet in future days, There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear, While circling Time moves round...
Page 183 - I'll no say, men are villains a' ; The real, harden'd wicked, Wha hae nae check but human law, Are to a few restricked : But Och ! mankind are unco weak, An...
Page 130 - Belyve,* the elder bairns come drapping in, At service out, amang the farmers roun
Page 135 - The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; The sire turns o'er, wi...
Page 134 - Is there, in human form, that bears a heart A wretch! a villain! lost to love and truth! That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth?
Page 53 - Now, butt an' ben, the Change-house fills, Wi' yill-caup Commentators : Here's crying out for bakes an' gills, An' there the pint-stowp clatters ; While thick an' thrang, an' loud an' lang, Wi' logic, an' wi' Scripture, They raise a din, that in the end, Is like to breed a rupture O' wrath that day. Leeze me on Drink ! it gi'es us mair Than either School or College : It kindles Wit, it waukens Lair, It pangs us fou o
Page 204 - What's a' your jargon o' your schools, Your Latin names for horns an' stools; If honest Nature made you fools, What sairs your grammars? Ye'd better ta'en up spades and shools, Or knappin'-hammers. A set o' dull conceited hashes Confuse their brains in college classes ! They gang in stirks, and come out asses, Plain truth to speak; An...