Last eve I
passed beside a blacksmith's door
And heard the
anvil ring the vesper chime;
When looking
in, I saw upon the floor,
Old hammers
worn with beating years of time.
"How
many anvils have you had," said I,
"To wear
and batter these hammers so?"
"Just
one," said he; then with a twinkling eye,
"The
anvil wears the hammers out, you know."
And so, I
thought, the anvil of God's Word,
For ages,
skeptics blows have beat upon;
Yet, though
the noise of falling blows was heard,
The anvil is
unharmed - the hammers gone.
by John Clifford
you are invited to follow my blog
ReplyDeleteSteve, thanks for the invitation. I look forward to the articles and the conservation. (rick)
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