“Thou hast promised in thy Word to be our shepherd, our guider an’ director; an’ thy word’s as gude as some men’s aith, an’ we’ll haud thee at it. Therefore take thy plaid about thee, thy staff in thy hand, an’ thy dog at thy fit, an’ gather us a’ in frae the cauld windy knowes o’ self–conceit—the plashy bogs an’ mires o’ sensuality, an’ the damp flows o’ worldly–mindedness, an’ wyse us a’ into the true bught o’ life, made o’ the flakes o’ forgiveness and the door o’ loving–kindness; an’ never do thou suffer us to be heftit e’ening or morning, but gie lashin’ meals o’ the milk o’ praise, the ream o’ thankfu’ness, an’ the butter o’ good–works. An’ do thou, in thy good time an’ way, smear us ower the hale bouk wi’ the tar o’ adversity, weel mixed up wi’ the meinging of repentance, that we may be kiver’d ower wi’ gude bouzy shake–rough fleeces o’ faith, a’ run out on the hips, an’ as brown as a tod. An’ do thou, moreover, fauld us ower–night, an’ every night, in within the true sheep–fauld o’ thy covenant, weel buggen wi’ the stanes o’ salvation, an’ caped wi’ the divots o’ grace. An’ then wi’ sic a shepherd, an’ sic a sheep–fauld, what hae wi’ to be feared for? Na, na! we’ll fear naething but sin!—We’ll never mair scare at the poolly–woolly o’ the whaup, nor swirl at the gelloch o’ the ern; for if the arm of our Shepherd be about us for good, a’ the imps, an’ a’ the powers o’ darkness, canna wrang a hair o’ our tails.”