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[The New Church Doctrine, in] The reading club and handy speaker

being serious, humorous, pathetic, patriotic, and dramatic selections in prose and poetry, for readings and recitations

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61

THE NEW CHURCH DOCTRINE.

There's come a sing'lar doctrine, Sue,
Into our church to-day;
These cur'us words are what the new
Young preacher had to say:—
That literal, everlastin' fire
Was mostly in our eye;
That sinners dead, if they desire,
Can get another try;
He doubted if a warmer clime
Than this world could be proved;
The little snip—I fear some time
He'll get his doubts removed.
I've watched my duty, straight an' true,
An' tried to do it well;
Part of the time kept heaven in view,
An' part steered clear o' hell;
An' now half of this work is naught,
If I must list to him,
An' this 'ere devil I have fought
Was only just a whim;
Vain are the dangers I have braved,
The sacrifice they cost;
For what fun is it to be saved,
If no one else is lost?
Just think!—Suppose, when once I view
The heaven I've toiled to win,
A lot of unsaved sinners, too,
Comes walkin' grandly in!
An' acts to home, same as if they
Had read their titles clear,

62

An' looks at me, as if to say,
“We're glad to see you here!”
As if to say, “While you have been
So fast to toe the mark,
We waited till it rained, an' then
Got tickets for the ark!”
Yet there would be some in that crowd
I'd rather like to see:
My boy Jack—it must be allowed,
There was no worse than he!
I've always felt somewhat to blame,
In several different ways,
That he lay down on thorns o' shame
To end his boyhood days;
An' I'd be willin' to endure,
If that the Lord thought best,
A minute's quite hot temperature
To clasp him to my breast.
Old Captain Barnes was evil's son—
With heterodoxy crammed;
I used to think he'd be the one
If any one was damned;
Still, when I saw a lot o' poor,
That he had clothed and fed,
Cry desolately round his door
As soon as he was dead,
There came a thought I couldn't control,
That in some neutral land
I'd like to meet that scorched-up soul,
An' shake it by the hand.
Poor Jennie Willis, with a cry
Of hopeless, sad distress,
Sank sudden down, one night, to die.
All in her ball-room dress;
She had a precious little while
To pack up an' away;
She even left her sweet good smile—
'Twas on the face next day;
Her soul went off unclothed by even
One stitch of saving grace;
How could she hope to go to heaven,
An' start from such a place?

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But once, when I lay sick an' weak,
She came an' begged to stay;
She kissed my faded, wrinkled cheek—
She soothed my pain away;
She brought me sweet bouquets of flowers
As fresh as her young heart—
Through many long an' tedious hours
She played a Christian part;
An' ere I long will stand aroun'
The singin' saints among,
I'll try to take some water down,
To cool poor Jennie's tongue.
But tears can never quench my creed,
Nor smooth God's righteous frown,
Though all the preachers learn to read
Their Bibles upside down.
I hold mine right side up with care
To shield my eyes from sin,
An' coax the Lord, with daily prayer,
To call poor wanderers in;
But if the sinners won't draw nigh,
An' take salvation's plan,
I'll have to stand an' see 'em try
To dodge hell if they can.
Will Carleton.