Maxioms by Bishop Reginald Heber
No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung,
Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.
Majestic silence.
No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung,
Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung.
Majestic silence.
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
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What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
Failed the bright promise of your early day?
Failed the bright promise of your early day?
Death rides on every passing breeze,
He lurks in every flower.
Death rides on every passing breeze,
He lurks in every flower.
