A HOLY HOWER.

Observer, Volume 5, Issue 120, 30 December 1882, Page 246

A HOLY HOWER.

' , By Henry Kendall. r You maj^have heard of Proclua^lsir, <f * If you* have been a reader 5 < i And tou may know a bit of her r i W_io helped the Lycian leader. . I have my doubts — the head you " sport " (Npw, m&tk me, don't get crusty) Is hardly of the classic sort — Your lore, I think, is fusty, * Most likely you have stuck to tracts '.. 0 ■ Mushed through -with flaming curses— I judge you, neighbour, -J^y your i»cts, So don't you d— — n my. verses/ . But, to my theme. The Asian sage, * Whose name above I mention, Lived, in the pitchy-PagaYi age, A life without pretension. • '■'# . . • ■■'#.•. He may have worshipped gods like Zeus, And termed old Dis a master ; Jgut then, he had a strong excuse — *. He never heard a pastor. •" ■■'.■" » / : •■ ' - However, lfejpecurs to me . That, hacFhe " cut " Demeter ■* And followed hcfwling Chiniquy, 3iECe wouldn't haVe been sweeter. NuLjoubt, with " shepherds " of this time He's not the " clean potato," Because — : excuse me for my rhyme — He pinfted his faith to, Plato.. But these are facts you can't deny, My pastor smudged and somy, '" His mind was like a summer-sty — He lived a life of beauty. ' "*' ■ ' #'H» ■ • **•■ '*' ' To lift His brother's thought above This earth he used to labour : His heart was luminous with loveHe didn't wound his neighbour. To him all men were just the same — He never foamed at altars, ;„;' Althougbfche lived ere Moody came — Ere Sankey snivelled psalters. The Lycian sage, my " reverend "sir, HaidMb't your chances ample ; ** But, after all, I must prefer ' The Pagan's pure example. Is there no deed of yours at all With beauty shining through it ? A%, no J your heart reveals its gall On every side I view it. - : *' '""■"' What sort of " gospel " do youfpreach ? What Bible is your Bible ? _ " - j There's worse than wormwood in your speech, You livid living libel ! & | How many lives are growing grey Through your depraved, behaviour ? I tell you, plainly, every* day — You crucify the Saviour. Some evil spirit curses you — • • j Your actions never vary : Yj)u cannot point your finger to One fact to the contrary. You seem to have a wicked joy In your malicious labour ; Endeavouring daily to destroy The neighbour's love for neighbour. The brutal curses you eject Make strong men dread to hear you, The world outsideyour petty sect Feels sick w^jj£Kߣ&&tt^^to&K