When I preach, there are some who say
They could listen to me all day.
Others think I preach too long.
And some think I go about it wrong.
Some say my sermon is much too deep.
To others, it’s shallow and they go to sleep.
Some report I hold them spell bound,
While others squirm and look around.
Some speak of me as an orator,
But others feel I’m a perfect bore.
Some believe I have no light,
And others think I preach just right.
Some affirm that I’m too bold,
Others wink and say I’m cold.
Some used to say I was much too young.
But others declare my spring has sprung!
Some folks tell I have met success.
Others think my work is a mess.
Some have said my pay is too low,
When they discover the pace I go.
Still others say it is above the peak,
“Why he only works three hours a week.”
From all this, ’tis plain to see.
That as a preacher, I’m up a tree.
Condemned if I do, condemned if I don’t;
Criticized if I will, criticized if I won’t.
I can’t please men of such discord,
So I’ll just keep trying to please the Lord.