Hypocrisy

    Hypocrisy will serve as well
To propagate a church, as zeal;
As persecution and promotion
Do equally advance devotion:
So round white stones will serve, they say,
As well as eggs to make hens lay.

Samuel Butler

Samuel Butler was an iconoclastic Victorian-era writer whose works were characterized by their satirical wit and commentary on society. He is best known for his utopian novel "Erewhon" and the semi-autobiographical "The Way of All Flesh." Butler's interests ranged widely, encompassing art, literature, and evolutionary theory. He questioned established norms and traditions, often facing criticism for his views. Despite this, his work has endured and he remains a significant figure in English literature.

Samuel Butler

Smatterers

Samuel Butler, Simple Poetry

Religion Of Hudibras, The

Samuel Butler, Simple Poetry

English

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Religion Of Hudibras, The

    For his religion it was fit
To match his learning and his wit:
'Twas Presbyterian true blue;
For he was of that stubborn crew
Of errant saints, whom all men grant
To be the true church militant;
Such as do build their faith upon
The holy text of pike and gun;
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery;
And prove their doctrine orthodox,
By apostolic blows and knocks;
Call fire, and sword, and desolation,
A godly, thorough reformation,
Which always must be carried on,
And still be doing, never done;
As if religion were intended
For nothing else but to be mended:
A sect whose chief devotion lies
In odd perverse antipathies;
In falling out with that or this,
And finding somewhat still amiss;
More peevish, cross, and splenet...

Samuel Butler

Poland

Augurs that watched archaic birds
Such plumèd prodigies might read,
The eagles that were double-faced,
The eagle that was black indeed;
And when the battle-birds went down
And in their track the vultures come,
We know what pardon and what peace
Will keep our little masters dumb.

The men that sell what others make,
As vultures eat what others slay,
Will prove in matching plume with plume
That naught is black and all is grey;
Grey as those dingy doves that once,
By money-changers palmed and priced,
Amid the crash of tables flapped
And huddled from the wrath of Christ.

But raised for ever for a sign
Since God made anger glorious,
Where eagles black and vultures grey
Flocked back about the heroic house,
Where war is holier than peac...

Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Reflections. Addressed To The Author Of The Article Of The Church In The Last Number Of The Quarterly Review.

I'm quite of your mind;--tho' these Pats cry aloud
    That they've got "too much Church," 'tis all nonsense and stuff;
For Church is like Love, of which Figaro vowed
    That even too much of it's not quite enough.

Ay! dose them with parsons, 'twill cure all their ills;--
    Copy Morrison's mode when from pill-box undaunted he
Pours thro' the patient his black-coated pills,
    Nor cares what their quality, so there's but quantity.

I verily think 'twould be worth England's while
    To consider, for Paddy's own benefit, whether
'Twould not be as well to give up the green isle
    To the care, wear and tear of the Church altogether.

The Irish are well used to treatment so pleasant;
    The harlot Church gave them to Henry Plantagenet,^[1]<...

Thomas Moore

The Character Of A Good Parson.[1]

    A parish priest was of the pilgrim train;
    An awful, reverend, and religious man.
    His eyes diffused a venerable grace,
    And charity itself was in his face.
    Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor;
    (As God had clothed his own ambassador;)
    For such, on earth, his bless'd Redeemer bore.
    Of sixty years he seem'd; and well might last
    To sixty more, but that he lived too fast;
    Refined himself to soul, to curb the sense;
    And made almost a sin of abstinence,
    Yet, had his aspect nothing of severe,
    But such a face as promised him sincere.
    Nothing reserved or sullen was to see;
    But sweet regards, and pleasing sanctity:
    Mild was his accent, and his action free.
    With eloquence innate his tongue was arm...

John Dryden

Persecutions Purify.

God strikes His Church, but 'tis to this intent,
To make, not mar her, by this punishment;
So where He gives the bitter pills, be sure
'Tis not to poison, but to make thee pure.

Robert Herrick

Satires Of Circumstances In Fifteen Glimpses - II In Church

"And now to God the Father," he ends,
And his voice thrills up to the topmost tiles:
Each listener chokes as he bows and bends,
And emotion pervades the crowded aisles.
Then the preacher glides to the vestry-door,
And shuts it, and thinks he is seen no more.

The door swings softly ajar meanwhile,
And a pupil of his in the Bible class,
Who adores him as one without gloss or guile,
Sees her idol stand with a satisfied smile
And re-enact at the vestry-glass
Each pulpit gesture in deft dumb-show
That had moved the congregation so.

Thomas Hardy