To send to all China and all around you feel,
Like saving them from their idols to whom they kneel;
Spread yourself on land and sea to get them in the band;
All this you do and have not charity,
And your religion is not right for me.
Cut out Sunday, sin, satan and hell,
Leave the gods up where they are wont to dwell;
Change all of your songs about heaven above
To things upon our earth and human love;
Put off your mourning, lugubrious whine