Pastoral tombstones

Someone started a hash-tag on Twitter called #pastoraltombstones.

If you don't follow me, you may have missed mine own contributions. To wit:

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Here lie the moldering ashes of Bob,

Who dressed like a model but preached like a slob

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He died as he lived with his right pinkie raised

So gentle and kindly — he lived to be praised;

but now life is done, and God's judgment he'll face

Not liking the price of the crowd's fond embrace

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Lament ye the passing of good Pastor Jim,

Whose el'phant was fat, though his judgment was slim

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Aye, farewell Johnny, your kind comes but once;

I'm sure we'll all miss your grand textual hunts

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His children will miss him

and so will his flock

For Howard has preached

his last churchly crock

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Pastor Smithers, a man of considerable charm

Lies dead now, ne'er more to do doctrinal harm

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He preached and exhorted and gestured and waved,

But under this Rev'rend not one soul was saved

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Old Jim he was nuanced and helpful and deep

So dainty he ne'er slowed the doctrinal creep

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