Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A SUMMER SERMON FOR MEN, by OLIVER MARBLE



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A SUMMER SERMON FOR MEN, by                    
First Line: I have fought a good fight,' the parson said, his weekly text declaring
Last Line: Felt of his muscle on the sly — and felt like god's anointed!
Subject(s): Baseball; Games; Play; Sermons; Sports; Recreation; Pastimes; Amusements


"I HAVE fought a good fight," the Parson said, his weekly text declaring,
"I have finished my course," he added, as St. Paul did, for good measure;
"And, brethren, life a ball game is" — the brethren all were staring —
"As I shall now proceed to prove to you at your good pleasure.

"The Soul stands up to bat, my friends; great Mammon is the catcher;
St. Michael is the umpire, and so mighty is his stature
There's not a dirty devil on the dark side of the bleachers
Dare even curl in scorn at him his least conspicuous features;
Red Satan is the pitcher, and his curves are simply wonders —
In and out, and snaked about, and swift as crushing thunders;
And on the Bases, in the Field, the Deadly Sins, just seven,
Stand guard to keep the Christian Soul from the Home Plate of Heaven.
Greed stands at First, one hand, or both, the ball full sure to hold to;
With Pride at Second, playing deep, and playing very bold, too;
Black Hate's at Third, with grounders sure, good thrower, never swerving;
And Lust is Short-Stop (handy man, with eyes too much observing);
Old Envy's playing Left — he's pulled sky-scrapers down by dozens;
And Sloth at Centre, slow but sure, is backing up his cousins;
While Jealousy, meanest of them all, about Right Field is slinking —
A Sin that's nipped too many lives ever to be caught blinking.
The Recording Angel scores the game; the Guardian Angel coaches —
And coaches well, but always on his rights each Sin encroaches —
The wickedest lot, right on the spot, you ever saw of kickers,
And every one profane, tobacco-using, full of liquors;
Yet the best to play, and play to win, and ne'er a one afraid is,
And when he puts a Christian out he sends him straight to Hades.
And it's you at bat, and you on deck, and you loud with the rooters,
Or else you're eggshelled by these diabolical freebooters;
Now there's no man in church to-day to whom this needs expanding,
So 'Onward, Christian Soldiers' sing, the congregation standing."

The morn was hot, depressing, and the ordinary sermon
Would have set some sinners snoring, leaving Parson disappointed;
But to-day each brother, with his eyes bright as the dews of Hermon,
Felt of his muscle on the sly — and felt like God's anointed!





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