The Office-Seeker's Creed: Private and Public — A Little Mixed

I believe in the gospel whose chief end of man 
Is to keep what you have and to get what you cап.
I am willing to serve, and your minister be—
To France, Timbuctoo, or the isles of the sea.
I believe in election; my hope and my prayer 
To the heavens (of your favor) are soon to be there;
Like Paul the Apostle I toil and endure 
To make my election more thoroughly sure.
I believe in the people—say once in a year;
They are dear (fifty dollars a head is too dear);
And I do delight in that rich foreign brogue
That rolls the full R in their rowdy, rum, rogue.
I believe in the spirit—which worketh in grog— 
That when Gog fights with Magog the world's all a-gog;
I believe tweedledee, by the grace of new rum, 
May be made to sound sweeter than dry Tweedledum.
I believe—but I hate it!—in falling from grace;
In a place for us all, and each one in his place.
And I trust the Five Points (not precisely of Calvin)
To work in such muck as our hands couldn't delve in.
I believe in the In-most; ah, yes, without doubt, 
One In is worth more than a dozen of Out;
And nothing such pure consolation can speak
To me as the promise to find if I seek.
I believe in the limitless country of Buncombe;
I speak for its people, in toasts I have drunk 'em;
And the "lecherous" bondmen, of them I'm so fond
I'd free them to-day-of their very last bond!
If my rival's a candid one I'm candid-ate;
So I go him seven better, and call him to play't;
My motives are pure-that is, all without mixture;
I want the new berth, and to make it a fixture.
I trust in the higher law ('cordin' to Tom), 
That strikes with conviction all doubters who come
To the polls without knowing which party will beat—
Our reasoning is such that you feel if not see't.
I believe in—well, let me see what I believe;
I believe it's more blessed to give than receive, 
And accept the less favor just out of benevolence,
Wishing all who may doubt of it safe to the devil hence.
I have faith in the Proverbs—we'll try this one soon:
"Who would feed with the devil shall need a long spoon."
The spoons have been ready, good faith, long enough!
‘Tis "a broth of a boy" in the stew—but he's tough!
And finally, brethren, to show my faith quicker, 
I believe it's high time that we step up and liguor;
Just take a drop more, Mr. Flynn and O'Flannigan;
You're the sovereign people. Hurrah for your man again!