Sermon on a Pin

Give me that simple shining pin, So worthless in your hand, Here on my desk a place to win And as a lesson stand. Think you no moral may be found In such a common thing? That Fancy will not hover ‘round And apt allusions bring?

The Poet, with observing eyes, Saw sermons in a stone; So in this pin a sermon lies, Of philosophic tone. We see it first, where placed in rows, The pins lie side and side; So children, wrapped in sweet repose, In peaceful homes reside.

Soon from the rest it travels west, Or east, by land or sea; So loving households part in quest Of pleasure, fame or fee. Observe it well, with sober mind; The head, you see, is flat; Thus many heads in life you’ll find, Beneath a stylish hat.

When new, how perfect, straight and neat, How finished, and how sound; So stands the upright man complete, With virtues circled ‘round. It has a point, and mission, too, ’Tis seldom made in vain; So men should have a point in view If they would glory gain.

If wrongly placed ‘twill mar your thought, When one would fain be still; So man, if badly bred or taught, Will treat his neighbor ill. Its life of constant service tends To keep it clean and bright; Thus men are kept, my loving friends, By application, right.

’Tis polished, like a sword or spear, And in the light will shine; Thus men of learning do appear, Where wit and sense combine. It moves around from coat to dress, As trouble one befalls; Thus men should hearken to distress, And go where duty calls.

It oft assists to hide one’s shame Till needles can repair; Thus should it be the Christian’s aim To cover faults with care.

If once ’tis sprung, ‘twill bend each day, And is no longer true; So thus in life, one step astray Will often lead to two. When bent, and blunt, and black at last, Who stoops to lift the pin? So thus the crowds do hurry past The crooked slave of sin.