Image from Catholic Spiritual Direction
From the Missionary.
“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.
“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.
“Stand, like an anvil,” when the sound
Of ponderous hammers pains the ear;
Thine, but the still and stern rebound
Of the great heart that cannot fear.
“Stand, like an anvil.” Noise and heat
Are of earth and die with time,
The soul, like God, its source and seat,
Is solemn, still, serene, sublime.
Riverside, St. Barnabas’s Day, ’49. G.W.D.
Hillsdale Whig Standard (Hillsdale, Michigan) Jul 17, 1849