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 many 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 skeptic's blows have beat upon;

Yet, though the noise of falling blows was heard, 

The anvil is unharmed—the hammers gone!