Old brother Barnes to Bethel came,
Through heat and cold ('twas just the same,)
For fifteen seasons promptly, monthly,
They paid him not--not even one-thly.

His little farm, on Georgia hill,
With old Gray's help, he tried to till,
But Gray was lean and poor and bony,
The land was also thin and stony.

On one occasion, blessed hour!
He spoke the word with extra power,
He knocked their hardness out of socket,
And almost reached the heart and pocket!

At close of sermon, Brother Stone,
With modest zeal and gentle tone,
Arose and made a mild suggestion,
Which raised an awful question!

"Paul said that they who preach shall live,
Which means I think that we shall give
To Brother Barnes a small donation--
I can not make Paul's full quotation.

So, brethren, if you really feel
That you can spare a peck of meal
Or slice of bacon for the preacher,
Just fetch it to our faithful teacher."

Up rose beloved Brother Brown,
His face arrayed in fearful frown;
"Br'er Stone, I'm sure you are mistaken,
Paul had not thought of meal or bacon!"

"He simply meant a gospel priest
Should on the gospel viands feast,
That while about its holy duties
Should feed upon its sacred beauties."

The battle raged on either side,
And which was right none could decide,
Or which one from his ground was shaken,
Or whether Paul meant meal and bacon!

At last old Brother Barnes arose,
And said he thought the fight should close:
"For many years, in peace and quiet,
I've feasted on the gospel diet;

Wher'er I go, wher'er I be,
'Tis always meat and drink to me.
But GRAY, my old plantation plodder,
He can not eat the gospel fodder!"

He had a farm, (by homestead law,)
Set up on edge, in Arkansaw,
But rains and floods and time's commotion,
Had washed the top-side to the ocean.

He worked and preached as best he could,
As any faithful preacher should,
But he was poor, (that is no treason,)
For he had quite sufficient reason.

For ten long years he preached the word,
And all the brethren gladly heard,
But never thought in that connection
To pass the hat and lift collection.

They loved to hear him quote the texts,
And chuckled when he "skinned the sects,"
But never mixed a cash donation,
Of tainted pelf with their salvation!

On one occasion Colonel Hood
Pronounced the sermon extra good,
And though somewhat a wayward sinner,
He asked the preacher home to dinner.

In afternoon, with Brother Grace,
He walked about his handsome place,
Equipped in style to suit his station,
Cribs, lots and barns, and big plantation.

He showed him cattle, sheep and goats,
And in the pens some blooded shoats,
Of which he made a special mention,
And drew the preacher's close attention.

"If you had here a hack or rig,
I'd give to you a blooded pig!
Next time you come just fetch your wagon,
And you'll have bacon fit to brag on!"

Before the preacher came again,
His gospel pig escaped from pen,
And left no trace or track behind him,
And Col. Hood could never find him!

Grace never more his SALARY saw!
'Tis running loose in Arkansaw!
(This story you can bet or swear on,)
At last accounts it had the hair on!

But here I'll check my mournful song,
Nor make my face nor numbers long,
One other verse shall end the story,
Old Gray and Barnes are both in glory.

And Grace? No gospel pig can vex his
Righteous soul. HE'S GONE TO TEXAS!

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