Classic Poem

" Beloved Brethren it makes for righteousness. "
How that same phrase doth smell strong, after all!
How cant, hypocrisy, and guilefulness
There curdle and beget their bitter gall!
Effluviae therefrom do soar on high!
Like foul-beak'd buzzards do they blight the breeze
Whereat all honest men heave heavy sigh,
That in Religion's name fly fowls like these.
From many pulpits do they take their wing —
All on the blessed Sabbath's holy calm —
O'er gravest Deacons do they lightsome fling
O'er primmest Elders starched wi' Gilead's balm.
Hypocrisy to-day doth stain The Church.
Tears of true repentance sole can lave the smirch.