The Anvil

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 may anvils have you had,” said I,

“To wear and batter all these hammers so?”

“Just one,” said he; then said with 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!

                                               Author Unknown