XII.

The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, They, round the ingle, form a circle wide; The Sire turns o'er, with patriarchal grace, The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride; His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care; And 'Let us worship GOD!' he says, with solemn air.