Then let us pray, that come it may,
As come it will for a' that,

When sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
May bear the gree, and a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,

It's coming yet, for a' that,

That man to man the whole warld o'er,
Shall brothers be, for a' that.

THE QUESTIONER.

R. NICOLL.

I ASK not for his lineage,
I ask not for his name-
If manliness be in his heart,
He noble birth may claim.

I care not though of world's wealth,
But slender be his part,

If "Yes

you answer, when I askHath he a true man's heart?

I ask not from what land he came,
Nor where his youth was nursed-
If pure the stream, it matters not
The spot from whence it burst.
The palace or the hovel,

Where first his life began,

I seek not of; but answer this-
Is he an honest man?

-what matters it

Nay, blush not now

Where first he drew his breath?

A manger was the cradle-bed

Of Him of Nazareth!

Be nought, be any, everything-
I care not what you be;

If "Yes" you answer, when I ask-
Art thou pure, true, and free ?

MY FRIEND NED.

JOHN RICHARDSON.-"Cassell's Working Man's Friend."
His hands are hard and brown and rough,
And his garments coarse and old;
But he deems them good enough,

If they guard him from the cold.
For he has a noble mind,

And a heart that's warm and kind; Not a better in the land

You will find.

Living in a humble shed,
Working for his daily bread,
Fearing God and loving man—
My friend Ned.

A mind serene, a conscience clear,
These are jewels of his own;
A heart unknown to guilt or fear,
But touch'd with sorrow's tone;
Labour when the day's begun,
Rest and quiet when it's done;
And he keeps upon his course
Like the sun;

Early up and soon to bed;
Sound in heart, and clear in head;
And his labour is a joy-
My friend Ned.

He is brave though he is poor,
And would scorn to do a wrong;
And his trust in God is sure,

And his faith in virtue strong;

Like a noble-hearted wight,

Though the wrong had all the might, He would battle with a host

For the right;

One whom tyrants well may dread,
Bold in heart and wise in head;

He's a hero in his soul

My friend Ned.

E

Low and humble though his state,
Poor his garment, coarse his food;
Where's the monarch half as great?
Where's the bishop half as good?
Proudly I would grasp his hand,
With the noblest in the land;
For amongst her best and bravest
He may stand;

Noble-though he toils for bread,
Rich-though living in a shed.

First of all my friends I rank him-
My friend Ned.

THERE'S FORTUNE ON BEFORE US.
Music at Davidson's.

THERE's fortune on before us, boys!
We'll seek it day by day,
And if we strive and persevere,
'Twill meet us half the way.
With toilful brow and stalwart arm,
We've sought it far and near,
Oh, never let our courage fail,
But strive and persevere !

With honest truth and good stout hearts,
Wherever we may roam,

No thorny path or rugged road

But leads us safely home.

So join with head, with heart and hand,
And drive despair away,

For better times are coming, friends;
We'll work and win the day.

Then courage, boys! the day will come,
To sooth our toil and pain;

When happiness shall smile on us,
And in our dwellings reign;

And we shall live to bless the hour
We strove to win the day,
So fortune will our efforts crown,
And meet us on the way!

For Wooing and Medlock.

UNFADING BEAUTY.
THOMAS CAREW, Esq., 1630.

HEE that loves a rosie cheeke,
Or corall lip admires,

Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuell to maintain his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and steadfaste mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calm desires,
Hearts with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires;
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheekes, or lips, or eyes.

NO JEWELLED BEAUTY IS MY LOVE.
GERALD MASSEY.

No jewell'd beauty is my love;
Yet in her earnest face

There's such a world of tenderness,
She needs no other grace.

Her smiles and voice around my life
In light and music twine,

And dear, oh, very dear to me,

Is this sweet love of mine.

Oh, joy, to know there's one fond heart
Beats ever true to me;

It sets mine leaping like a lyre,

In sweetest melody.

My soul up-springs a deity,
To hear her voice divine!
And dear, oh, very dear to me,
Is this sweet love of mine.

If ever I have sigh'd for wealth,
'Twas all for her I trow;
And if I win Fame's victory wreath,
I'll twine it on her brow.
There may be forms more beautiful,
And souls of sunnier shine;
But none, oh, none so dear to me
As this sweet love of mine.

DINNA THINK, BONNIE LASSIE.

H. MACNEIL, Esq.-Music at Wood's, Edinburgh. Oн, dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave you; Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave you; Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave you; I'll tak a stick into my hand an' come again an' see

you.

Far's the gate ye hae to gang, dark's the night an' eerie,

[eerie, Far's the gate ye hae to gang, dark's the night an' Owre the muir an' thro' the glen, ghaists mayhap will [leave me. O stay at hame, it's late at night, an' dinna gang an’ It's but a night an' half a day that I'll leave my dearie,

fear ye,

But a night an' half a day that I'll leave my dearie, But a night an' half a day that I'll leave my dearie, When the sun gaes west the loch, I'll come again an'

see ye.