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Hammers and Anvils

I paused last eve beside the blacksmith’s door.

And heard the anvil ring, the vesper’s chime.

And 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,” he answered. 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’s blows have beat upon

But though the noise of falling hammers were heard

The anvil is unchanged: the hammers gone.

– John Clifford, D.D.

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