The sermon wasn't flowery; 'twas simple Gospel truth;
It fitted poor old men like me; it fitted hopeful youth;
'Twas full of consolation for weary hearts that bleed;
'Twas full of invitations to Christ and not to creed.
The preacher made sin hideous in Gentiles and in Jews;
He shot the golden sentences down in the finest pews;
And—though I can't see very well—I saw the falling tear
That told me hell was some ways off, and heaven very near.
How swift the golden moments fled within that holy place;
How brightly beamed the light of heaven from every happy face;