If

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?