| There burns a fire with sacred heat
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| White hot with holy flame
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| And all who dare pass through its blaze
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| Will not emerge the same
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| Some as bronze, and some as silver
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| Some as gold, then with great skill
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| All are hammered by their sufferings
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| On the anvil of His will
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| The Refiner’s fire
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| Has now become my souls desire
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| Purged and cleansed and purified
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| That the Lord be glorified
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| He is consuming my soul
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| Refining me, making me whole
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| No matter what I may lose
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| I choose the Refiner’s fire
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| I’m learning now to trust His touch
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| To crave the fire’s embrace
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| For though my past with sin was etched
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| His mercies did erase
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| Each time His purging cleanses deeper
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| I’m not sure that I’ll survive
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| Yet the strength in growing weaker
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| Keeps my hungry soul alive |