The Old Parishioner and the Modern Parson.
“ Why, John, I haven’t seen your face In church for weeks, I know,” “ No. sir, it’s such a queerish place When it’s restored I’ll go.” “ When it’s restored ? Why, John, you’ve seen The chancel that’s just built— With painted windows, carved oak screen, And reredos all of gilt! “ With decoration it abounds; Thgre’a a new altar, too; The organ cost three hund'ed pounds— It’s all restored quite new,” “ Yes; like old Ned, the other day— What had a stroke, I mean— He’s quite restored to health, they say ; But, lor, his mind’s gone clean. " Dark windows may be beautiful For them as likes the look; But I, with old ryes getting dull, Want light to read my book. “When I was young (you’d think it odd), The roses climbed in there. They always made me think of God, And all his tender care. “ But now, if I look up, I greet Them figures done in paints ; I’d go a long way not to meet Saints, if such folk be saints,” “Ah, John, they didn’t teach high art When you were put to school; But how do you like the singing part— Come, that’s a better rule!” “ Why, sir, they’re thinking far too much How tunes go nowadays. Give mo the old hundredth psalm and such, That’s more what I call praise,” “ Wo used to sing it-such a crowd— Maybe the notes weren’t true; Maybe wo sang a bit too loud, Because our hearts sang too. “ But now, my grandson-pert young lad— He says he’s got much higher ; Says he: ‘You’re not to sing, granddad, You’ll interrupt the choir.’ “ ‘ You thinks a deal about that thing, The choir,’ I says to him; 1 But I can’t see why you ran’t sing Without your bedgown, Jim.’ “ New chancel’s mighty fine, but ne’er Can we make out—who knows— What’s gone with the Commandmsnts there ; What have you done with those ? “ You’re all for pretty tiles and bricks, For carving, gilt, and scroll; What good could them tall candlesticks Do to a poor dark soul ? “ Sir, there’s a many things restored No use to such as me; We want to hear about the Lord, You only talk of She. “ Wo used to pray the prayers, and then The parson prayed from heart; Now you all seem to think Amen The most important part. “But, sir, I scarce like telling you How it sounds when you intones.” “ Well, John, what is it like ? Speak true, ’’ “ Machine what grinds the bones I “ Wo had a minister once, sir—’Twas long before you came— A man that was a minister. Not only in the name. “ Your decorations, copes, and stoles— He didn’t need such aid ; Ho cared too much for our poor souls To think how his gown was made. “I’ve seen him pleading with us thus, With tears in eyes he stood; Somehow those tears preached more to us Than twenty sermons could. “The rich and poor came far and near, The church would overflow; It’s getting full again, I hear Folks come to see the show, “ Now, its most like the play I ace In London town one day, All very well for a play maybe, But not for a prayer, I say. “ Do you think, sir, such a queerish whim Can please the Lord, forsooth ? He said—we were to worship Him In spirit and in truth, “ So that’s why I don’t come, you know; I will when it’s restored; But now, sir, I don't care to go, Because I fears the Lard.” Maegabbt Toppbb.
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The Old Parishioner and the Modern Parson., Evening Star, Issue 8030, 5 October 1889, Supplement
The Old Parishioner and the Modern Parson. Evening Star, Issue 8030, 5 October 1889, Supplement
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