Then gently scan your brother man,
Still gentler sister woman;
Though they may gang a kennin' wrang
To step aside is human:
One point must still be greatly dark,
The moving _why_ they do it:
And just as lamely can ye mark
How far, perhaps, they rue it.
Who made the heart, 'tis He alone
Decidedly can try us;
He knows each chord--its various tone,
Each spring--its various bias;
Then at the balance let's be mute,
We never can adjust it;
What's done we partly may compute,
But know not what's resisted.
--Robert Burns.