My pastor shapes his sermons
From A to final Z
In clear and forthright language,
And aims them straight at me.

And when he gets to preaching,
I look around to see
If there might be another
Deserving more than me.

But every soul looks saintly —
Their hearts to Heaven turn —
While I, in my conviction,
Can only sit and squirm.

You know, I often wonder,
If I should miss a day;
Would he, without his target,
Have anything to say?

Author unknown. If anyone has a proprietary interest in this story please authenticate and I will be happy to credit, or remove, as the circumstances dictate.

Thanks to WITandWISDOM(tm) – February 15, 2000 subscribe-wit-wisdom@xc.org