Though small the drops of falling rain,

If one be singly viewed;

Collected, they o’erspread the plain,

And form a mighty flood.

The house it meets with in its course,

Should not he built on clay;

Lest, with a wild resistless force,

It sweep the whole away.

Though for awhile it seemed secure,

It will not bear the shock;

Unless it has foundations sure,

And stands upon a rock.

Thus sinners think their evil deeds,

Like drops of rain, are small;

But it the pow’r of thought exceeds,

To count the sum of all.

One sin can raise, though small it seems,

A flood to drown the soul;

What then, when countless million streams

Shall join, to swell the whole.

Yet, while they think the weather fair,

If warned, they smile or frown;

But they will tremble and despair,

When the fierce flood comes down!

O! then on Jesus ground your hope,

That stone in Zion laid;

Lest your poor building quickly drop,

With ruin, on your head.