Pain's furnace heat within me quivers,
God's breath upon the flame doth blow,
And all my heart in anguish shivers
And trembles at the fiery glow;
And yet I whisper—As God will!
And in his hottest fire, hold still,
He comes and lays my heart,—all heated,
On the hard anvil, minded so
Into His own fair shape to beat it,
With his great hammer, blow and blow;
And yet I whisper—As God will!
And, at his heaviest blows, hold still.
He takes my softened heart, and bears it,
The sparks fly off at every blow;
He turns it o'er and o'er, and heats it,
And lets it cool, and makes it glow;
And yet I whisper—as God will!
And, in His mighty hand, hold still.
Why should I murmur! for the sorrow
Thus only longer lived would be;
Its end may come, and will to-morrow,
When God has done his work in me;
So I say, trusting—As God will!
And, trusting to the end, hold still.
He kindles for my profit, purely,
Affliction's glowing, fiery brand,
And all his heaviest blows are, surely,
Inflicted by a Master's hand;
So I say, praying—As God will!
And hope in Him, and suffer still.