Behold! the days of miracle at last
  Return—if ever they were truly past:
  From sinful creditors' unholy greed
  The church called Calvary at last is freed—
  So called for there the Savior's crucified,
  Roberts and Carmany on either side.

  The circling contribution-box no more
  Provokes the nod and simulated snore;
  No more the Lottery, no more the Fair,
  Lure the reluctant dollar from its lair,
  Nor Ladies' Lunches at a bit a bite
  Destroy the health yet spare the appetite,
  While thrifty sisters o'er the cauldron stoop
  To serve their God with zeal, their friends with soup,
  And all the brethren mendicate the earth
  With viewless placards: "We've been so from birth!"

  Sure of his wage, the pastor now can lend
  His whole attention to his latter end,
  Remarking with a martyr's prescient thrill
  The Hemp maturing on the cheerless Hill.
  The holy brethren, lifting pious palms,
  Pour out their gratitude in prayer and psalms,
  Chant De Profundis, meaning "out of debt,"
  And dance like mad—or would if they were let.

  Deeply disguised (a deacon newly dead
  Supplied the means) Jack Satan holds his head
  As high as any and as loudly sings
  His jubilate till each rafter rings.
  "Rejoice, ye ever faithful," bellows he,
  "The debt is lifted and the temple free!"
  Then says, aside, with gentle cachination:
  "I've got a mortgage on the congregation."