Rev. Joseph Williams speaks from beyond the grave, and he is cheerfully frank about what kind of man he was. He is a minister, but he is also "a child of flesh and blood," and he says so plainly. His soul wants truth; his body wants food and drink. He explains that both needs depended on keeping the Second Baptist Church going, and that the church depended on the women in the pews.
Then comes the sly punchline. The reader is told to "understand" why the congregation stayed loyal, why the sisters mourned him, and why many children now have moles on their necks just like his. The poem never says outright what he did, but the hint is clear: his closeness to the sisters went well beyond the pastoral.
The mood is wry and mocking. The speaker sounds untroubled, almost proud, and his calm justifying tone is what makes the portrait of hypocrisy so funny and so pointed.