The Almost Christian

Broad is the road that leads to death,

And thousands walk together there;

But wisdom shows a narrow path,

With here and there a traveler.

Deny thyself, and take thy cross,

Is thy Redeemer's great command;

Nature must count her gold but dross,

If she would gain that heav'nly land.

The fearful soul that tires and faints,

And walks the ways of God no more;

Is but esteem'd almost a saint,

And makes his own destruction sure.