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THE FURNACE OF AFFLICTION

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Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 30, 1859

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 14, No. 6.

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THE FURNACE OF AFFLICTION.

LORD! unto thee I lift a troubled heart, A tearful eye; But if thy hand hath sent the sting, the smart, If thou be nigh— Nigh, though unseen, upon my knees I'll pray, Dry not those tears, take not that sting away.
Clothe me with sackcloth, mingle thou my food With ashes—still I'll bless the hand that is educing good From seeming ill; Should I thus walk in darkness, if my sight Could bear undazzled, more of heaven's own light?
Not till the molten gold be purified Slack thou the flame; Give me but grace thy pleasure to abide, To see thy aim, To know that thou art with me in the fire, I need no more and nothing else desire.—Sel.