20 
ADAPTATION 
 
We are all divided, fifty bodies We, 
Fifty hopes and doctrines, nary charity. 
 
Church and chapel perish !  Open Plyms to hell ! 
But Our kind of Brethren still in safety dwell. 
Raven’s lot can never ’gainst the lord prevail, 
We are his brave followers, you are Satan’s tail. 
 
Come then, outside peoples, join Our noble throng ! 
Blend with Ours your voices in the triumph song ! 
Glory, praise and honour unto Us alone ! 
Christians’ necks our footstool, Heaven itself Our throne ! 
 
P.S.—BELOVED BRETHREN,—The spirit indeed is willing, 
but the flesh is weak.  For I, like Balaam (in the old legend), 
was compelled to express our real feelings and not our 
pretended ones.  This, of course, absolutely ruins the 
adaptation.  In fact, I am not certain as to whether it does 
not rather give us away ! 
Alas !  we are only poor, weak, failing creatures ! 
Your broken - hearted, broken - winded, broken - kneed 
brother, 
JUDAS CAIAPHAS TRUELOVE.* 
 
[This astonishing piece of satire was composed after 
some weeks in the house of a Plymouth Brother whose 
children and friends had gone over to one of the other kinds 
of Brethren at the great split of I894.  Almost every phrase 
used therein is a quotation, not a parody.—R. P. L.] 
 
*The man Truelove was at once put out of fellow- ship.  He will be 
certainly damned.—PILATE CROSSPATCH.