The Refiner

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D.C. · Aug 18, 1904

’Tis sweet to know that he who tries The silver, takes his seat Beside the fire which purifies, Lest too intense a heat, Raised to consume the base alloy, The precious metal, too, destroy.

’Tis sweet to think how well he knows The silver’s power to bear The ordeal through which it goes; And that with skill and care He’ll take it from the fire when fit, With his own hand, to polish it.

’Tis blessed still to know that he The work he has begun Will not forsake till he can see The work itself well done: An image by its brightness shown, The perfect likeness of his own!

But O! how much of earthly mold, Dark relics of the mine Lost from the ore, must he behold! How long must he refine Ere in the silver he can trace The first faint semblance of his face?

Thou, great Refiner, sit thou by, Thy purpose to fulfil; Moved by thy hand, beneath thine eye, And melted at thy will, O may thy work forever shine, Reflecting beauty pure as thine!

—Selected.