THAT FATAL LIMB by C. Cotton

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 9, 1860

THAT FATAL LIMB.

By C. Cotton

A MAN who thought himself quite wise, Climbed up a tree towards the skies, And as he meant the tree to trim, Just placed himself upon a limb, And trimmed away and worked so good, He cut the limb on which he stood; When to his great surprise he found That he was sprawling on the ground.

And thus it is with those who say Man cannot keep God's holy day; For round the earth the thing don't chime; All cannot keep it at one time, And if around the earth we go, We gain or lose a day or so.

Or should we go north to the pole, The Sabbath-day would be so droll, Or rather it would be so queer, One Sabbath-day most half a year.

And thus they write, and preach, and say, No one can keep the seventh day; And yet they think themselves quite just To urge on man to keep the first; As though they thought 't would make all strait If they for first-day legislate.

And yet for all they might fair slim, Since they have cut away their limb. But still in God they place their hope, Make void his law and serve the pope. C. COTTON. Friendship, N. Y.