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.
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.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories