Some seven score Bishops late at Lambeth sat,
Gray-whiskered and respectable debaters:
Each had on head a well-strung curly hat;
And each wore gaiters.

And when these prelates at their talk had been
Long time, they made yet longer proclamation,
Saying: " These creeds are childish! both Nicene,
And Athanasian.

True, they were written by the Holy Ghost;
So, to re-write them were perhaps a pity.
Refer we their revision to a most
Select Committee!

In ten years' time we wise Pan Anglicans
Once more around this Anglo Catholic table
Will meet, to prove God's word more weak than man's,
His truth, less stable. "

So saying homeward the good Fathers go;
Up Mississippi [ sic ] some and some up Niger.
For thine old mantle they have clearly no
More use, Elijah!

Instead, an apostolic apron girds
Their loins, which ministerial fingers tie on:
And Babylon's songs they sing, new tune and words,
All over Zion.

The Creeds, the Scriptures, all the Faith of old,
They hack and hew to please each bumptious German,
Windy and vague as mists and clouds that fold
Tabour and Hermon.

Happy Establishment in this thine hour!
Behold thy bishops to their sees retreating!
" Have at the Faith! " each cries: " good bye till our
Next merry meeting! "