God’s Anvil

Pain’s furnace-heat within me quivers,
God’s breath upon the fire doth blow,

Pain’s furnace-heat within me quivers,
God’s breath upon the fire 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 bare 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 hold 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 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-hand;
So I say praying, “As God will!”
And hope in Him, and suffer still.