  If all the sermons good men preach And all the precepts that they teach Were gathered into one Unbroken line of silver speech, The shining filament might reach From earth unto the sun. If all the stories ever told By wild romancers, young or old, Into a thread were drawn, And from its cable coil unrolled, 'Twould span those misty hills of gold That heaven seems resting on. If every folly, every freak, From day to day, from week to week, Is written in "The Book," With all the idle words we speak, Would it not crimson many a cheek Upon the page to look? If all the good deeds that we do From honest motives pure and true Shall there recorded be, Known unto God and angels too, Is it not sad they are so few And wrought so charily? |
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