Here is a poem recently discovered in an old book at
the Library of Congress by Nakoma Linkletter.
The Song of Finneyhaha
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
by the crazy tent revival,
Stood Charlie, the old preacher,
Pointing with his finger westward,
O'er the people pointing westward,
To the purple clouds of sunset.
Fiercely the red sun descending
Burned his way along the heavens,
Set the sky on fire behind him,
As he posed with eyes a gleaming,
"I can create my own revivals,
With repentance if I choose to,
It's all about mathematics,
Heaven blessed and automatic".
So said Charlie while the sun set,
With its glare upon his features.
If only he had written down those formulas!
ReplyDeleteToo funny. Makes me want to give copies of R.C. Sproul and John MacArthur books to all my Pelagian friends for Christmas.
ReplyDeleteShouldn't that be "On the shores of Don Ameche?"
ReplyDelete