One day I paused beside a blacksmith’s door.
And heard the anvil sound the vesper chime;
Then looking in, I saw upon the floor
Old hammers worn with beating years of time.
“How many anvils have you here,” said I,
“To wear and batter all these hammers so?”
“Just one,” the blacksmith said with twinkling eye;
“The anvil wears the hammers out, you know.”
“And so,” said I, “the anvil of God’s Word
For ages, skeptic blows have beat upon;
Yet, though the sound of hammers thus was heard,
The Anvil yet remains—the hammer’s gone.”