At times I’m fash’d wi’ fleshly lust,
An’ sometimes, too, wi’ warldly trust—
Vile self gets in;
But thou remembers we are dust,
Defil’d in sin.
O L—d! yestreen, thou kens, wi’ Meg—
Thy pardon I sincerely beg,
O! may it ne’er be a livin’ plague
To my dishonor,
An’ I’ll ne’er lift a lawless leg