An' sometimes, too, wi' warldly trust,
Vile self gets in:
But Thou remembers we are dust,
Defil'd in sin.
Maybe thou lets this fleshly thorn
Beset thy servant e'en an' morn
Lest he owre high an' proud should turn,
'Cause he's sae gifted;
If sae, Thy ban' maun e'en be borne,
Until Thou lift it.