Booth, Gordon
Gin I spikk wi the tungs o fellow chiels an angel-fowk, it hae nocht Luve, I'se nae mair eese nor sounin braisse nor clinkum-clanks.
An gin I hae the secunt sicht, an ken aa meesteries, an aa bulk leir; an e'en hae the pouer tae meeve the muckle Bens frae aff thir foons - yit, if I hae nocht Luve, I'se nae mair nor a fushionless gype.
An gin I gie awa aa ma gear tae the puir, tae stap thir waims; an gin I gar ma bodie tae bi brunt anaa, yit want Luve in ma ain breist, sic gweed--daein'll win ma sowl naethin.
Luve bears the gree an is aye sonsie. Luve nivver chaws wi envie, nivver growes swall-heidit, nivver blaws its ain horn. Luve nivver gangs clean gyte; nivver pooches ithers' gowd; nivver flees inno a tirrivee; niver thinks on coorse thochts; nivver taks pleisur in ill-daein: bit aye ettles aifter the trewth.
Luve tholes aathin; howps aathin; hauds straucht aheid; an abides aathin. Luve nivver misgaes
e'en gin wir ain seers misgae, an wir spikk misgaes, an aa wir leir misgaes inno the pitmirk.
Ivnoo, we ken bit a peedie pairt o't aa; an oor sicht cairries bit a sma wye forrit. Yit fin it cams at wir aa pairfit-lyk, syne wir hauflin onnerstaunin'll bi nae mair. Noo, fin I wis a loon, I thocht lyk a bairn an I kent nae mair nor a bairn; bit fin I cam tae manheid, syne I pit awa aa ma bairnie's thochts an laid past aa ma bairnie's whigmaleeries.
Ivoo, freens, it's somelyk sklentin inno aa auld keekin-glaisse - aa derk an mochie.
Bit syne, it'll be mair a maitter o luikin straucht atween the een. Ivnoo, I ken bit a wee pairt o't aa; syne, freens, I'll ken aathin. An I'll bi kent by Him anaa.
Sae, fur the noo, freens, we maun haud faist tae Faith, an tae Howp an tae Luve - aa the thrie o them.
Bit Luve stauns heidmaist abeen them aa!