There burns a fire with sacred heat, white hot with holy flame,
And all who dare pass through it's blaze will not emerge the same.
Some as bronze and some as silver, some as gold, then with great skill
ALL are hammered by their sufferings on the anvil of His will.
I'm learning now to trust His touch, to crave the fire's embrace,
For though my past with sin was etched His mercies did erase.
Each time His purging cleanses deeper, I'm not sure that I'll survive,
Yet the strength in growing weaker keeps my hungry soul alive.
The refiner's fire has now become my sole desire.
Purged and cleansed and purified, that the Lord be glorified.
He is consuming my soul, refining me making me whole.
No matter what I may lose, I choose the refiner's fire.