Consider the Preacher, his job isn’t quite
One round of unbroken, unmingled delight.
His work may seem easy to folks in the pew,
And many may think he has little to do.
But often his problems and tasks are the kind
That burden the heart and weary the mind.
He must please the parents, and take with the youth
Draw crowds to the church and still tell them the truth.
His sermons of course must conform to the views
Of judges and critics who sit in the pews.
They have to be studied, instructive and new
With fresh illustrations, both pointed and true.
They must not be heavy or trifling or long,
And never too sharp or too plain or too strong.
The voice must be pleasing, the gestures correct
The grammar and diction be free from defect
He must not be loud, yet he has to speak out
So old folk may know what he’s talking about.
He must tell the rich the reward will be great
For pennies and nickels they drop in the plate.
He must preach on giving in such a way
That no one objects to the things he may say.
Whenever it happens that somebody dies
The dead must be honoured and praised to the skies
For, whether the life has been noble or base,
The funeral talk must be nothing but praise.
It’s just too bad if a word has displeased
A friend or a relative of the deceased.
He must be an orator, a scholar, and seer,
A singer with sensitive, musical ear,
A humourist, satirist, diplomat, wit,
A man who has wisdom, courage and grit.
A leader and business man, one who can get
The requisite money for budget and debt.
He must have an appetite for all of the cakes
And cookies and salads that the ladies make.
He must be a drinker of coffee and tea
Whatever the colour of flavour may be.
His wife must be gifted, attractive and sweet
Industrious, capable, thrifty and neat.
She must be not critical, cranky or cross,
Or one who is anxious to meddle or boss.
The children, of course, must be dear little saints
Whose conduct gives no one a cause for complaints.
They must be respectful, modest and meek,
Know when to be silent and when they should speak.
How well he is liked he may judge by the way
The folks come to church and take care of his pay.
And if they start grumbling he quickly must prove
Both willing and ready to pack up and move.
And that isn’t all – these are only a few
Of merits demanded by folks in the pew.
But preachers are mortals and whoever saw
A man in whose makeup there wasn’t a flaw?
His weaknesses, shortcomings, faults will appear
And were it not so, preachers would not be here.
For reasons that we in this world may not know
The Lord does not keep angels below.
So when he is doing the best that he can
Remember – the preacher is only a man
A poem appearing in a Church Bulletin – June, 1973
