“And he sawn amang the thorns, this is he wha hears the word, and than the cark oʼ the warlʼ, and the glamor oʼ riches, smoor the word, and it bears nae frute.
“But tak ye tent to yere sels! that yere hearts be‐na owercome wiʼ debauch and druckenness, and fash aboot this life, and that day come on ye aʼ at ance, as a snare.
“And thir that fell amang the thorns, are they that hear; and as they gang on their way, are smoorʼd wiʼ cark and care, and the gear and the joys oʼ this life, and bring nae frute to the ripenin.
“And ither some fell intil the gude grunʼ; and brairdin, brocht forth frute, a hunner‐fauld.” Thir things sayin, he cryʼt alood, “He wha has lugs to hear, let him hear!”