LAST EVE I passed beside a blacksmith's door,
And heard the anvil ring the vesper chime;
Then, 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 all these hammers so? "
" Just one, " said he, and then, with twinkling eye,
" The anvil wears the hammers out, you know. "

And so, thought I, the anvil of God's Word,
For ages skeptic blows have beat upon;
Yet, though the noise of falling blows was heard,
The anvil is unharmed — the hammers gone.