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Refiner's Fire

Oh, that I would be known to have been with Jesus
That enough of what I'd created myself to be
Would be literally burned to death
In the white hot of the refiner's fire
The dross floating to the top
To be scraped way
And purity left to stay
Only the purest gold remaining
That this earthen vessel
Would be in the likeness of the Potter himself
Perfectly turned, lovingly molded
Sturdily built, kiln-fired
Unbreakable, gloriously glazed
And brimming with Living Water
Oh, that my life would be an offering
Sweet-smelling with sizzling fat
Blood red with  poured out Life
Oh, that I would be free of myself
And turn my back to my chains
To run like a gazelle into Life
To lay hold of my Master's garment hem
If only for a chance to serve close to his throne

Stephen Pursell, 10/20/01