THE SERMON
by
Rachae Filewood, Nosmo King & Ernest Longstaff (1938)

In his study one night by the fading light, sat the vicar tired and worn,
Trying to dream of a novel theme for his sermon on Sunday morn.
He could think of none, for his little son, was playing around with his toys,
With laughter shrill, as children will, he was making a terrible noise.

To meditate and concentrate, the vicar tried in vain,
If he could only find the key, some peace and quiet to gain;
Just then he noticed a map of the world, and an idea entered his head,
“By a simple ruse, my son I’ll amuse, while I finish my sermon.” he said.

"Take this map of the world to the nursery my boy, cut it up into little bits,
Then try to piece it together again, till every particle fits,
With a sigh of content as the youngster went, his longing to write increased,
And he knew the boy’d be well employed for over an hour at least.

So he took up his pen and paper and then beginning his task once more,
He’d scarcely written a single page when a knock was heard at the door,
With a confident grin, the boy walked in, his map of the world complete,
“How did you do it so quickly my son, it’s correct and so perfectly neat.”

“On the back of the map” said the little chap, “is the picture of a man,
And I thought if I only got him straight, I must get the world to plan.”
“You’re right,” said the vicar, “My sermon I’ve learnt, you’ve made it so wonderfully plain
It’s by getting men’s hearts the right way turned, that the world will come straight again.”