Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing.

Affliction's sons are brothers in distress; A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!

The trout in yonder wimpling burn - That glides, a silver dart, - And, safe beneath the shady thorn, - Defies the anglers art.

I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing; But, och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!

Dare to be honest and fear no labor.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

They never sought in vain that sought the Lord alright!