Text: | Stand like an anvil, when the stroke |
Author: | Bishop Doane |
1 Stand like an anvil, when the stroke
Of stalwart men falls fierce and fast;
Storms but more deeply root the oak,
Whose brawny arms embrace the blast.
2 Stand like an anvil, when the sparks
Fly far and wide a fiery shower;
Virtue and truth must still be marks
Where malice proves its want of power.
3 Stand like an anvil, when the bar
Lies red and glowing on its breast;
Duty shall be life's leading star,
And conscious innocence its rest.
4 Stand like an anvil, when the sound
Of pond'rous hammers pains the ear;
Thine but the still and stern rebound
Of the great heart that cannot fear.
5 Stand like an anvil; noise and heat
Are born with earth and die with time;
The soul, like God, its source and seat,
Is solemn, still, serene, sublime.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Stand like an anvil, when the stroke |
Author: | Bishop Doane |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1891 |
Notes: | Public Domain. |