And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,
Was beat with fist instead of a stick.

And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,
Was beat with fist instead of a stick.

Judge not the preacher; for he is thy judge:
If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him not.
read more

Judge not the preacher; for he is thy judge:
If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him not.
God calleth preaching folly. Do not grudge
To pick out treasures from an earthen pot.
The worst speak something good. If all want sense,
God takes a text, and preaches patience.

For the preacher's merit or demerit,
It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer
In read more

For the preacher's merit or demerit,
It were to be wished that the flaws were fewer
In the earthen vessel, holding treasure,
But the main thing is, does it hold good measure
Heaven soon sets right all other matters!

Would I describe a preacher,
. . . .
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
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Would I describe a preacher,
. . . .
I would express him simple, grave, sincere;
In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain,
And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste,
And natural in gesture; much impress'd
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge,
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds
May feel it too; affectionate in look,
And tender in address, as well becomes
A messenger of grace to guilty men.

A kick that scarce would move a horse,
May kill a sound divine.

A kick that scarce would move a horse,
May kill a sound divine.

God preaches, a noted clergyman,
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven read more

God preaches, a noted clergyman,
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven at last,
I'm going all along.

But in his duty prompt at every call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all.

But in his duty prompt at every call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all.

The priest he merry is, and blithe
Three-quarters of a year,
But oh! it cuts him like read more

The priest he merry is, and blithe
Three-quarters of a year,
But oh! it cuts him like a scythe
When tithing time draws near.

Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant
Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn
Loud as the read more

Oh, for a forty-parson power to chant
Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh, for a hymn
Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt,
Not practise!