by   Harry Kemp

We huddled in the mission fer it was cold outside
And listened to the preacher tell of the Crucified;

Without a sleety drizzle cut deep each ragged form,
An' so we stood the talkin' fer shelter from  the storm.

They sang of Gods and Angels an' Heaven's eternal joy
An things I stopped believin' when I was still a boy.

They spoke of good an' evil an' offered savin'  grace
An' showed some love for mankind a-shinin' in their face.

An' some their graft was workin' the same as me and you;
But some was urgin' on us what they believed was true.

We sang an' dozed an' listened, but only feared, us men
The time when, service over, we'd have to mooch again.

An' walk the icy pavements, an' breast the snow storm gray,
Till the saloons was opened, an' there was hints of day.

So, when they called out, "Sinners, won't you come?" I came----
But in my face was pallor an' in my heart was shame----
An' so fergive me, Jesus, fer mockin' of thy  name.

Fer I was cold an' hungry; they gave me food an' bed
After I kneeled there with them, an' many prayers was said.

An' so fergive me, Jesus, I didn't mean no harm---
Fer outside it was zero an' inside it was warm.
 
Yes, I was cold an' hungry an' Oh, Thou Crucified,
Thou Friend of all the Lowly, fergive the lie I lied.