Master's Hand
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He sat by the fire of seven-fold heat, He knew He had ore that could stand the test So He laid our gold in the burning fire, And the gold grew brighter, and yet more bright Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow, Can we think that it pleases His loving heart So He waited there with a watchful eye, Anon
As He watched by the precious ore.
And closer He bent with a searching gaze
As He heated it more and more.
And He wanted the finest gold,
To mold as a crown for the King to wear,
Set with gems of price untold.
Though we fain would have said Him, "Nay."
And He watched the dross that we had not seen,
As it melted and passed away.
And our eyes were so dim with tears,
As we saw the fire, not the Master's hand,
And questioned with anxious fear.
As it mirrored a Form above
That bent o'er the fire, though unseen by us
With a look of infinite love.
To cause a moment of pain?
Ah, no, but He saw through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.
With a love that is strong and sure,
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat
