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.
Author: Bishop Reginald Heber
Source: From Greenland's Icy Mountains--Missionary Hymn
Turns out it is, as they say, from a missionary hymn, by a Bishop, no less.
I don't know why I am surprised--Bertie did win a Scripture Prize (a statue of the Infant Samuel at prayer) when he was a boy. He waas obviously well informed about things ecclesiastical.
The poem does not express the sentiments of the management of this blog--so no indignant e-mails, please.
ReplyDeleteI'll send you an indignant email.
ReplyDeleteNyah nyah nyah!
ReplyDeleteGood post. I am going through many of these issues as well.
ReplyDelete.
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