Till God in him again has scouth.
For sic a loup towards wisdom’s croon
Hoo fer a man maun base him doon,
Hoo plunge aboot in Chaos ere
He finds his needfu’ fittin’ there,
The matrix oot o’ which sublime
Serenity sall soar in time!
Ha’e I the cruelty I need,
Contempt and syne contempt o’ that,
And still contempt in endless meed