Shaping The Heart

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 stand 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 on blow:
And yet I whisper: "As God will!"
And at His heaviest blows stand still.

He takes my softened heart and beats 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 long-lived would be;
Its end may come, and will tomorrow,
When God has done His work in me.
And say I 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 praising: "As God will!"
And hope in Him, and suffer still.

[ by: Julius Sturn -- (Joy Of Art Shop) from Joyce Guy ]


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