It would be difficult to imagine a confession of faith framed and presented in a more impressive manner.

Sludge is a witness to his faith as the old martyrs were witnesses to their faith, but even more impressively.

They testified to their religion even after they had lost their liberty, and their eyesight, and their right hands.

Sludge testifies to his religion even after he has lost his dignity and his honour.
It may be repeated that it is truly extraordinary that any one should have failed to notice that this avowal on behalf of spiritualism is the pivot of the poem.

The avowal itself is not only expressed clearly, but prepared and delivered with admirable rhetorical force:-- "Now for it, then! Will you believe me, though?
You've heard what I confess: I don't unsay A single word: I cheated when I could, Rapped with my toe-joints, set sham hands at work, Wrote down names weak in sympathetic ink.
Rubbed odic lights with ends of phosphor-match, And all the rest; believe that: believe this, By the same token, though it seem to set The crooked straight again, unsay the said, Stick up what I've knocked down; I can't help that, It's truth! I somehow vomit truth to-day.
This trade of mine--I don't know, can't be sure But there was something in it, tricks and all!" It is strange to call a poem with so clear and fine a climax an attack on spiritualism.