And then the long-faced, praying saints, Who worshiped God on Sunday, And set aside their pious feints, To serve the De’il on Monday-- They evermore, with empty word, Professed their hate of evil; But while they cried “Guid Lord! Guid Lord,” They said aside, “Guid Devil!” We dinna ken what caused his death, Or ended his probation, Whether it was that he lacked breath, Or lacked appreciation. Perhaps the “origin o’ Sin” Has proved too tough a question; He took it for his meat within, And died o’ indigestion. Farewell! farewell! auld Nickie-ben; We trust ye are forgiven, For doubtless ye made haste to men’,[19] And make your peace wi’ heaven. We leave your burial, guid or bad, To Truth, as undertaker, And your puir soul, such as ye had, Commend unto its Maker. FRATERNITY. COULD ye but ken, ye sons o’ men, How truly ye are brithers, Ye’d make guid speed to stand agreed, Tho’ born o’ various mithers. Ane common breath, ane common death, Ane hame in Heaven above ye-- Ye are the fruit frae one great root In the guid God who lo’es ye. All high and low, all empty show, All envious differences, Will fade from sight and vanish quite, When men come to their senses. Each living man works out the plan For which he was intended, And he does best, who will na’ rest Until his work is ended. Your neebors’ blame, or sinful shame, Should gie your soul na’ pleasure, For while ye judge, wi’ cruel grudge, You fill your ain sad measure. The De’il himsel’ could scarcely tell Which o’ ye was the better; He wad be laith to leave ye baith, While either was his debtor. Here in life’s school wi’ pain and dool,[20] You get your education, While mony a trip and sinful slip Helps on the soul’s salvation. The unco skeigh,[21] wi’ heads full high, Wha feel themselves maist holy, Oft learn through sin how to begin _True_ life amang the lowly. Baith you and I may gang agley,[22] For ’tis a common failin’; But hauld away! we need na’ stay A weepin’ and a wailin’. The God aboon cares not how soon We leave our sins behind us; He does not hate us in that state, Nor set the De’il to mind us. And as for Hell, o’ which men tell, I’m sure o’ the opinion, There’s na’ such place o’ “saving grace” In all the Lord’s dominion. And those who rave, puir souls to save, Wi’ long-faced, pious fleechin’,[23] Will find far hence, that _common sense_ Is better than _such_ preachin’.