Christian poem 'God Is Witness' by Hugh Smith (Christart.com)

God Is Witness
by Hugh Smith © 1996

It happened quite awhile ago, 12 years or maybe 10
While visiting Victoria, I was a preacher then
The foul occurrence came about, mid-sermon Sunday night
When one of those disturbing thoughts accosted me outright
I was expostulating text from Scripture to the crowd
When seemingly from nowhere there it was, and very loud
I marvel still and can't explain how hearing thought like this
I carried on with rhetoric, a word I didn't miss
I blinked my eyes and looked around to see who spoke the word
Or else to spy if others there beside just me had heard
But blithely unaware were they, their faces showed no sign
Of other voiced in the room, the only sound was mine.
So I concluded hastily this voice came from within
And while I stood and spoke that night, I felt it was a sin
To speak God's word so fervently and thinking all the while
"What if your fly should come undone?" They must have seen me smile
As preaching goes, you might expect I moved around a lot
And very rare the platform that could hold me to one spot
I loved to roam from side to side while acting out each word
That is until the very time that little voice was heard.
It just so happened in that church the pulpit was quite large
I made my way behind it then, my thoughts to get in charge
Mid-sentence my right had went down, extending my right thumb
To ease my curiosity, then BOY! did I feel dumb
"What are the odds?" I asked myself, that this could be so true
But God is witness to these words I'm telling now to you
For as I carried on to speak, my thumb in secret pried
And to my own astonishment my fly was open wide
I then became self conscious as I tried that thing to zip
While I stood in sheer amazement, in my hand a broken clip
Now I knew I was in trouble, wouldn't budge though I did try
And believed that every person must have eyed my gaping fly
I could feel my armpits dampen, sweat was rolling down my chest
Trying hard to keep on preaching and to finish out the rest
But I must admit to weakness where it now concerned my will
For the prospect of an exit sadly lay before me still
"O dear Lord, come to my rescue", "Let us pray," is what I said
"Thank you Lord, that plan is brilliant," And each person bowed their head
I just prayed so very briefly while each one sat in their seat
And before their eyes were opened I affected my retreat
With my suit pulled tight around me and my Bible case to block
Not one person did I speak to, I just kept a steady walk
Went directly to the washroom, that was when the fight was on
And as I emerged victorious, mostly everyone was gone
I look back on it with humor, yes I even write it down
Knowing now why some wise preachers, in the pulpit wear a gown
Though to some it looks too formal, I hope now you might see why
They don't sweat it, neither worry, even if they break their fly.

Please contact Hugh Smith at "hughwsmith@shaw.ca" to request permission to use this poem.