Marble and recording brass decay,
And, like the graver's memory, pass away;
The works of man inherit, as is just,
Their author's frailty, and return to dust;
But Truth divine forever stands secure,
Its head as guarded as its base is sure;
Fixed in the rolling flood of endless years,
The pillar of th' eternal plan appears;
The raving storm and dashing wave defies,
Built by that Architect who built the skies.
—
