Sorrow Is The Refiner's Cricible

Sorrow is the Refiner's crucible;
It may be caused by the neglect,
Or cruelty of another;
By circumstances over which
The sufferer has no control,
Or as the result of some dark hour
In the long distant past.
But in as much as the Lord
Has permitted it to come upon you;
It must be accepted as His appointment,
And reckoned as the furnace,
By which He is searching.....testing.....probing;
And purging the soul:
Suffering sanctifies the whole,
As fire searches and purifies metal.
We believe we are to the full for God;
Until we are exposed to the cleansing fire of pain:
Then shall we discover, as did Job,
The dross that abides and the impurities within,
That restrict and hamper our walk with Him.
For nothing so detaches us from the clutter of life:
The love of sense; or the adhesion of earthly affections,
As the infliction of anguish.
Yet He will always keep the discipline of sorrow
In His hands.......as the Lord proclaims,
"My Father is the Husbandman,"
His hand holds the pruning knife,
His eye is fixed upon the cauldron.
His gentle touch is lightly on the pulse,
Caressing; comforting as the darkness clears.
The moments of agony are carefully allotted:
The rigor of the test is prescribed
By the reserves of grace and strength,
Lying unrecognized within.
In tribulation, the Comforter draws near,
Seated alongside the crucible
As the Refiner of pure silver,
Regulating the heat, marking every change;
Waiting ever patiently for the alluvium to sort,
And His image be mirrored in clear, translucent metal.