Pub Prophets and/or Poets?!

I just sat in the corner listening to the three old grumps.  
Between their pints they argued over what all that church stuff means.  
They were pretty far into the wind, and doing their best to be poets.

One of them began, "... my daughter is trying her dangdest to get me in church ..."

One of his buddies, maybe an old school teacher, 
looked up and chimed in,
"Do your best, and,
He'll make up the rest?!"

and then, he added,
"Take a break;
your final exam He will take?!"

and, "how about this one?
What's the fuss?
He covers us!"

But, the one of the other old grumps, snarled in disagreement,
"Do your part, or,
He will cut out your heart!"
"how'd you like that, you loud, old fart?!"

then, he added,
"He marked the road.
Now carry your load."

Not to be outdone, the first grump chimed in,
"He broke the evil spell.
Now you don't have to go to hell!"

At another, nearby table, somebody shouted,
"He gave us the perfect example; and,
He gave us a heavenly sample."

"you like that one? then here's another..."
"He gave Himself as a sacrifice,
so that our reception, there, would be more nice."

Across the room, some angry old coot then growled,
"He picked out you,
and there's nothing you can do!  
But, you, He does not like,
so just go ahead and take a hike?!" (a Scot?)

The guy at his table told him to shut up! 

Then he sang in,
"Whether He is a ransom, or a  substitute,
matters to me not a toot.
A scapegoat or a sacrificial lamb,
I just don't GET a damn!"

Then, with a tearful eye, the bartender quietly whispered,
"His blood has covered me.
Praise the Lord, that's all I can see!"