9
But time goes on with rapid fligh,
The wheel is always moving,
And whether morning, noon, or night,
Tis ours to be improving.
So, Andrew, let the young alane,
For while you’re stan’ing ta’king,
Ye might been past the next mile stane
Had ye been busy wa’king.
For old and young have each their blots,
And fau’ts that need detection,
And some improve their neighbour’s spots
To hide their ain defection.
Yet he who most pretends to teach
The road that leads to Canaan,
Points to a place he ne’er can reach,
While like a guide post standing.
Our style in prayer and tunes in praise,
Ye say should common be,
The man that understands this phrase
Is wiser, sir, than me.
If this can be a rule complete
To either man or woman,
Then we may pray upon the street
Te practice ance was common;
The Romish priest has here a prop
By such absurd debating,
Because ’tis common for the Pope
To say his prayers in Latin.
The thing that’s common now-a-days
Was ance a world’s wonder:
And singing tunes in solemn praise
Was held an arrant blunder.
