Stand, as an Anvil, When It Is Beaten Upon

"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 bar
Lies, red and glowing, on its breast:
Duty shall be life's leading star,
And conscious innocence its rest.
"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 born of earth, and die with time:
The soul, like God, its source and seat,
Is solemn, still, serene, sublime.