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.

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

Alas for the unhappy man that is called to stand in the pulpit,
and not give the bread of read more

Alas for the unhappy man that is called to stand in the pulpit,
and not give the bread of life.

The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again, pronounce a text,
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The things that mount the rostrum with a skip,
And then skip down again, pronounce a text,
Cry hem; and reading what they never wrote
Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work,
And with a well-bred whisper close the scene!

I venerate the man whose heart is warm,
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,
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I venerate the man whose heart is warm,
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whose life,
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof
That he is honest in the sacred cause.

There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark!
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.

There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark!
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.

Of right and wrong he taught
Truths as refined as ever Athens heard;
And (strange to tell) read more

Of right and wrong he taught
Truths as refined as ever Athens heard;
And (strange to tell) he practis'd what he preach'd.

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!

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.