Bot till our purpois to returne,
Thocht of this feir thow salbe fred,
Zit hes thow mater for to murne.
Becaus that watcheman thow dois want,
That the in puretie did plant,
And comfortit thy congregatioun:
Bot zit thocht he be gane I grant
The Lord can send the consolatioun,
Gif thow giue him dew adoratioun,
He will not leaue the comfortles,