In the skyscraper castle
 Of Friske & McMold,
Where mommies are bartered
 And daddies are sold,
Worked a man quite devoted
 To home and career—
The sign on his desk
 Proclaimed "Henry J. Fleer."

Now Henry was timid,
 A nice family man
With a kid still in diapers
 And wife named Joanne.
Each lunchtime he'd loosen
 The necktie he wore
And read from a Bible
 Kept tucked in a drawer.

One noon as he settled
 To study and ponder,
His boss through the hallways
 Just happened to wander;
He paused to watch Henry
 A moment or two,
Then off to the penthouse
 In anger he flew.

When lunchtime was over,
 Not two minutes passed
Before Henry was summoned
 By intercom blast.

"I have a few words
 For that Henry J. Fleer!
Find him this moment
 And send him up here!"

That bellowing magnate
 was Cyrus McMold,
Who lived five floors up
 In an office of gold.
His reserved elevator
 Slid open its door
To whisk anxious Henry
 Up to the top floor!

With mild trepidation,
 Poor Henry approached,
As he tried to determine
 Whose turf he'd encroached.
He couldn't imagine
 What fate might unfold
Once he entered the office
 Of Cyrus McMold.

"Come in," rumbled Cyrus
 When Henry arrived.
He offered his hand
 With a smile quite contrived.

"I'd like to discuss
 Your activities here
And how they may hinder
 Your budding career.

"I noticed today
 As I peeked in your door
That you study a Bible
 You keep deep in a drawer.

"I'll put this directly
 So you'll understand—
You shall cease and desist...
 And THAT'S a command!"

Henry was dumbstruck
 A moment or two,
So he carefully studied
 The tip of one shoe.
He fumbled three buttons
 And straightened his tie
Before daring to stammer
 A single word: "W-Why?"

"Come now, good fellow,"
 Blurt Cyrus, aghast,
"If the Bible was followed
 How long could we last?

"Business is business
 And must be conducted
With methods quite different
 Than those God instructed.

"Think of your colleagues—
 They'd all lose their jobs!
Without their fat paychecks
 They'd soon live like slobs!

"Reflect on your future
 And set yourself free ...
Throw down that Bible
 And be more like me!"

Henry considered
 What Cyrus had said
With a lump in his heart
 And an ache in his head;
Then he noticed a girl
 In an old tarnished frame.

"Oh, do you have a daughter?
 Please tell me her name."

"Drucilla," sighed Cyrus,
 "Drucilla McMold,
That picture was taken
 When seven years old.

"It's rather outdated,
 She's older, of course,
But we haven't kept touch
 Since my messy divorce.

"Her mom turned religious
 Clear out of the blue—
She studied her Bible
 And prayed just like you.

"We soon tore asunder
 For reasons, I'm told—
Because God was not welcome
 At Friske & McMold."

"I'm sorry to hear
 Of your loss,"
Henry said,
"In the same situation
 I'd sooner be dead.

"Now, this may sound harsh
 And a teensy bit cold,
But you traded your family
 For Friske & McMold."

Cyrus most clearly
 Was taken aback—
His eyes opened wide
 And his jawbone went slack
As he studied the man
 Standing bold at his door.

"Come sit down," he invited,
 "And do tell me more."

As Henry sank deep
 In a leatherish chair,
He asked God for guidance
 In silence of prayer.
The words he'd deliver
 Must find and take hold
Of a faith buried somewhere
 In Cyrus McMold.

"Of course it's important
 For us to provide—
Our work is fulfillment
 I'd never deride.

"But heartbreak begins
 When priorities roam
And ambition replaces
 Our real life at home.

"When God is gold-plated
 Our wives become spouses,
Our kids mere deductions,
 Our homes only houses,
Our natural passion
 For family grows cold ...
Chilled numb in the hallways
 Of Friske & McMold."

When Henry was done
 Cyrus started to cry.
He took out a hankie
 And dabbed at his eye
And said, "With those few words
 You have summed up my life—
Blaming God for the loss
 Of my daughter and wife,
But alas, it was me
 Who chased all three away ... "

Then he whispered to Henry,
 "Is it too late to pray?"

And from that day forward
 The story's been told
Of how God was promoted
 At Friske & McMold.