The flames soar high

And my feet are getting hot

I wonder in my pain where You are

The anvil is hard

And the hammer-wielder strong

I cringe before the swift-falling blows

I'm bent out of shape

And I'm burning away

I wonder what will be left of me

I cry in my pain

To the God I have known

He answers in the blink of an eye

My child, don't you know

I am making of you

A crown for My own first-born Son

The dross of your sins

Will be left in the fire

Though the heat of it right now is so great

The gold that you are 

Must be purely refined

My creation I will never forsake