Muscatine

The Proud Liberal

There lived a lib'ral oh so proud
And a podunker man was he;
He had a love for lying loud
Loud he did and with smiling glee.

His lies were dark, wicked and mean
From deep within his wicked soul.
He spread his filth with words obscene
Sounding just like a lib'ral troll.


Such a troll is a dork enrolled
In a life deprived of the truth.
He spins a tale with Satan's mold
And trims it with lib'ral abuse.


'I know more things than all mankind,
And I am an expert on war,
This is my word, I have defined
And anything else I'll just ignore!?


He said the docs were real and true
But then we found they were all fake.
Fake, fake but true, he yelled anew.
So in his head the lie still was secure.


This is the joke of lib'ral rule
And podunkers who go along,
A lib'ral's a liar and a fool
An axiom that's never been proven wrong!

In evil long

In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopp'd my wild career:

I saw One hanging on a Tree
In agonies and blood,
Who fix'd His languid eyes on me.
As near His Cross I stood.

Sure never till my latest breath,
Can I forget that look:
It seem'd to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke:

My conscience felt and own'd the guilt,
And plunged me in despair:
I saw my sins His Blood had spilt,
And help'd to nail Him there.

Alas! I knew not what I did!
But now my tears are vain:
Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
For I the Lord have slain!

--A second look He gave, which said,
''I freely all forgive;
This blood is for thy ransom paid;
I die that thou may'st live.''

Thus, while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue,
Such is the mystery of grace,
It seals my pardon too.

With pleasing grief, and mournful joy,
My spirit now is fill'd,
That I should such a life destroy,
Yet live by Him I kill'd!

John Newton 1779