Maxioms by Bishop Reginald Heber
Failed the bright promise of your early day?
Failed the bright promise of your early day?
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
Death rides on every passing breeze,
He lurks in every flower.
Death rides on every passing breeze,
He lurks in every flower.
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.
We have forty million reasons for failure, but not a single
excuse.
We have forty million reasons for failure, but not a single
excuse.
