For him who, lost to every hope of life,
  Has long with fortune held unequal strife,
  Known, to no human love, no human care,
  The friendless, homeless object of despair;
  For the poor vagrant, feel while he complains,
  Nor from sad freedom send to sadder chains. 
  Alike, if folly or misfortune brought
  Those last of woes his evil days have wrought;
  Believe with social mercy and with me,
  Folly’s misfortune in the first degree.

  Perhaps on some inhospitable shore
  The houseless wretch a widowed parent bore,
  Who, then no more by golden prospects led,
  Of the poor Indian begged a leafy bed;
  Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden’s plain,
  Perhaps that parent mourned her soldier slain,
  Bent o’er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew,
  The big drops mingling with the milk he drew,
  Gave the sad presage of his future years,
  The child of misery, baptized in tears!

* * * * *

AUGUSTUS MONTAGU TOPLADY

ROCK OF AGES

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee! 
Let the water and the blood
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.

  Not the labors of my hands
  Can fulfil Thy law’s demands;
  Could my zeal no respite know,
  Could my tears forever flow,
  All for sin could not atone;
  Thou must save, and Thou alone.

  Nothing in my hand I bring;
  Simply to Thy cross I cling;
  Naked, come to Thee for dress;
  Helpless, look to Thee for grace;
  Foul, I to the fountain fly;
  Wash me, Saviour, or I die!

While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyestrings break in death,
When I soar through tracts unknown,
See Thee on Thy judgment-throne;
Book of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee!

* * * * *

JOHN SKINNER

TULLOCHGORUM

Come gie’s a sang!  Montgomery cried,
And lay your disputes all aside;
What signifies ’t for folk to chide
For what’s been done before ’em? 
Let Whig and Tory all agree,
Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,
Let Whig and Tory all agree
To drop their Whig-mig-morum! 
Let Whig and Tory all agree
To spend the night in mirth and glee,
And cheerfu’ sing, alang wi’ me,
The reel o’ Tullochgorum!

  O, Tullochgorum’s my delight;
  It gars us a’ in ane unite;
  And ony sumph’ that keeps up spite,
  In conscience I abhor him: 
  For blythe and cheery we’s be a’,
  Blythe and cheery, blythe and cheery,
  Blythe and cheery we’s be a’,
  And mak a happy quorum;
  For blythe and cheery we’s be a’,
  As lang as we hae breath to draw,
  And dance, till we be like to fa’,
  The reel o’ Tullochgorum!