God’s Anvil

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 wills

And in His hot­test fire hold still;

And yet I whis­per

As God wills

And in His hot­test fire hold still.

He comes and lays my heart all heat­ed

On His hard an­vil

mind­ed so;

Yet in His own fair form to beat it

With His great ham­mer

blow by blow.

He takes my soft­ened heart and beats it;

The sparks fly off at ev­ery blow;

He turns it o’er and o’er and beats it

And lets it cool

and makes it glow.

He kin­dles for my pro­fit

pure­ly

Affliction’s glow­ing

fie­ry brand;

For all His hea­vi­est blows are sure­ly

Inflicted by a mas­ter hand.

I will not mur­mur at the sor­row

That on­ly long­er lived would be;

The end may come

and that to­mor­row

When God hath wrought His will in me.