I think that I shall never see
A church that’s all it ought to be,
A church whose members never stray
Beyond the straight and narrow way.
A church that has no empty pews;
Whose pastor never has the blues;
A church whose deacons always "deak"
And none is proud and all are meek.
Where gossips never peddle lies
Or make complaints or criticize;
Where all are always sweet and kind
And all to other’s faults are blind.
Such perfect churches there may be,
But names of them aren’t known to me –
And still, we’ll work and play and plan
To make our own the best we can.