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.
Before, beside us, and above
The firefly lights his lamp of love.
Before, beside us, and above
The firefly lights his lamp of love.
