The Refiner’s Fire
There burns a fire with sacred heat,
White hot with holy flame,
And all who dare pass through the blaze
Will not emerge the same.
With great skill I’m hammered out
On the anvil of His will.
Each time His purging cleanses deep
As I am processed through His mill.
Though my hope of growing stronger
Keeps my hungry soul alive,
It’s the Refiner’s fire
That My soul desires.
Purged, cleansed, and purified
As I watch my flesh demise;
A Master Craftsman refines my soul
That He may be glorified.
So, to His refinement do I submit
As I approach the mire,
For there is such a sweetness of
His presence—deep within the fire.
Submitted by Stanley Roberts, Sr.