I have refined thee, but not with silver; I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction. Isaiah 48:10
Words: Ellen L. Goreh, From India’s Coral Strand: Hymns of the Christian Faith (London:
Home Words Publishing Office, 1883), pages 26–27.
Take my heart, O Great Refiner,
Plunge it in the cleansing flame:
Heat the furnace seven times hotter,
I shall still adore Thy Name.
I shall hail its hungry roaring,
’Twill be music in mine ear,
If, amid its fiery anger,
Thy sweet gentle voice I hear.
Yea, I love Thee, Great Refiner;
Yea, I love the burning light;
Dearer than the costliest jewel,
Sparkling, beautiful, and bright!
Is it true that I am worthy
Thus to be made pure from dross?
If I was not wholly cleansèd
Wouldst Thou count it as a loss?
Oh, how wonderful Thy goodness,
Far beyond my highest thought!
I can only take, rejoicing,
What Thy tender care has brought.
Purged and tried as gold or silver,
This is what I long to be;
Perfected, and wanting nothing—
Work Thine own sweet will in me.
Grand assurance! Thou art watching
Most intently all the while;
Welcome is the fining process
Carried on beneath Thy smile;
Or, if Thou in love withholdest
Thy felt presence, it is well;
Faith shall triumph over feeling,
Peace shall still within me dwell.
Welcome, welcome every dealing,
Pain or pleasure, joy or woe;
All is sent, O Great Refiner,
By a loving hand, I know.
Daily cares which fret and grieve me,
Small and trifling, yet so keen,
Are on purpose to refine me,
Though by human eyes unseen.
Do not let me miss one trial
Which would make me purer still;
When Thine image shineth through me
Cease the fining—not until!
When the silver gleams and glitters,
From all earthly dross set free,
With no stain to mar its beauty,
Satisfied Thou then shalt be!