In the furnace of sorrow,
affliction, and care,
Refine me, dear Lord, and leave
the dross there.
Oh, shape me and mold me in Your
Since You are the Potter, and I am the
I want to help others and speak words
And hide all my heartaches, my sorrow and
Lord, teach me to profit form suffering and
Be quick to forgive and slow to
And all those who sorrow, their
eyes filled with tears,
May I be the one who can
quiet their fears.
I want my influence and actions to
Filled, overflowing with true
It may be some soul is close to
And it may be later than even we
So help me, dear Lord, that this prayer will
Then may my life prove it in all that I
© W. A.