attributed to John Clifford
Last eve I passed beside a blacksmith’s door,
And heard the anvil ring, the vesper chime.
And looking in, I saw upon the floor,
Old hammers, worn by beating years of time.
“How many anvils have you had?” said I,
“To wear and batter out hose hammers so?”
“Just one,” said he, and then with twinkling eye,
“The anvil wears the hammers out, you know.”
And so I thought, the Anvil of God’s Word,
For ages, skeptic blows have beat upon.
But tho the sound of falling blows is heard,
The Anvil still remains – the hammers gone!
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