As he maunders of a glowing aftermath,
Where no scallywag or sinner
May be counted as a guest
When the trumpet sounds for dinner—
Though he did his level best!
Never mind, old Rags and Tatters! when you reach the “golden stairs,”
You may meet a Godlike cobber, who will say,
“Though you’ve hobnobbed with the Devil, and forgot your vesper prayers,
You were only as I fashioned forth your clay—
Whether scoffer who denied Me,