Based on Malachi 3: 2 - "He is like a refiner's fire"
No sorrowful cross
Of sickness or loss,
Has in itself virtue to purge away dross.
One furnace alone,
With breath of grace blown,
Can soften and hallow this heart of stone.
With delicate skill,
And fuel at will,
The Saviour refineth and purgeth us still.
His love never tires,
But kindles new fires,
To burn up our idols and paltry desires.
The dross that will stay
In flames of to-day,
More fuel to-morrow shall melt it away.
As fresh scums arise,
Fresh faggots* he tries,
And ever keeps melting, and thus purifies.
Where flesh can't survive
Grace gets a revive,
And in a bush burning will crackle and thrive.
Thine heavenly art,
Great Chemist, impart,
To separate tinsel and dross from my heart.
And let me not dread
The furnace to tread,
But conquer the world through Jesus my Head.
(Altered by Charles Haddon Spurgeon)
* faggots = bundles of wood
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