I know it is disrespectful to assault the faith of other professing Christians who are sincere, and that is not to be done. However, sometimes gentle humor can provoke thoughtfulness and challenge a person to reconsider what might be a cherished belief. With the latter in mind, the following little narrative by an unknown author presents an interesting point of view and a challenge for those who believe in transubstantiation:
A pretty maid, a Protestant, was to a Catholic wed;
To love all Bible truths and tales, quite early she’d been bred.
It sorely grieved her husband’s heart that she would not comply
And join the Mother Church of Rome and heretics deny.
He went to see his clergyman and told him his sad tale,
“My wife’s an unbeliever sir, you can perhaps prevail.”
For all your Romish miracles my wife has strong aversion,
To really work a miracle may lead to her conversion.
The priest went with the gentleman—he thought to gain a prize.
He said, “I will convert her sir, and open both her eyes.”
So when they came into the house, the husband loudly cried,
“The priest has come to dine with us!”
“He’s welcome,” she replied.
And when, at last, the meal was over,
The priest at once began to his hostess all about the sinful state of man;
The greatness of our Savior’s love, which Christians
Can’t deny, to give Himself a sacrifice and for our
Sins to die.
“I will return tomorrow, lass, prepare some bread and wine;
the sacramental miracle will stop your soul’s decline.”
“I’ll bake the bread,” the lady said.
“You may,” he did reply,
“And when you’ve seen this miracle, convinced you’ll be, say I.”
The priest did come accordingly, the bread and wine did bless.
The lady asked,
“Sir, is it Changed?”
The priest answered,
“Yes, it’s changed from common bread and wine to truly flesh and blood;
Begorra lass, this power of mine has changed it into God.”
So having blessed the bread and wine, to eat they did prepare;
The lady said unto the priest,
“I warn you to take care,
For half an ounce of arsenic was mixed right in the batter,
But since you have its nature changed, it cannot really matter.”
The priest was struck real dumb—he looked as pale as death.
The bread and wine fell from his hands and he did grasp for breath.
“Bring my horse!” the priest cried,
“This is a cursed home!”
The lady replied,
“Begone! Tis you who shares the error of Rome.”
The husband too, he sat surprised, and not a word did say.
At length he spoke,
“My dear,” said he,
“The priest has run away!
“To gulp such summary and tripe,
I’m not, for sure, quite able;
I’ll go with you and will renounce this
Roman Catholic fable.”