Classic Poem

A glorious structure built of gold,
Of cordial truths and well receiv'd,
Does brighter glories far unfold;
This fact we always have conceiv'd.

Just so, in Christian grace great,
Our souls walk on the heav'nly road;
We take the cherub for our mate,
And thus we make our way to God.

Sin still except, I mean to name,
For angels are all pure above —
They are a bright and burning flame,
They're wing'd with zeal and fir'd with love.

But wood and hay and stubble frail
Can never make the house so strong;
Whene'er we try it we shall fail,
For sure it can't endure so long.

Just so in spirituals, we shall find
Unjust conclusions vainly fraught,
Bad premises with sins combin'd,
A practice loose and a loose thought.

'Twill just escape us from the fire,
Just save our souls if we are good;
But never shall we rise much higher
Than just to miss a wrathful flood.