That Hour O' Night's Black Arch The

But Facts Are Chiels That Winna Ding, An' Downa Be Disputed.

But Deep This Truth Impressed My Mind — Thro' All His Works Abroad, The Heart Benevolent And Kind The Most Resembles God.

The Fear O' Hell's A Hangman's Whip To Haud The Wretch In Order; But Where Ye Feel Your Honour Grip, Let That Aye Be Your Border.

't Is Sweeter For Thee Despairing Than Aught In The World Beside,-jessy!

Dweller In Yon Dungeon Dark, Hangman Of Creation, Mark! Who In Widow Weeds Appears, Laden With Unhonoured Years, Noosing With Care A Bursting Purse, Baited With Many A Deadly Curse?