Pain's furnace-heat within me quivers,
God's breath upon the flame doth blow;
And all my heart in anguish shivers
And trembles at the fiery glow;
And yet I whisper--"_As God will!_"
And in his hottest fire stand still.
He comes, and lays my heart, all heated,
On the hard anvil, minded so
Into his own fair shape to beat it
With his great hammer, blow on blow;
And yet I whisper--"_As God will!_"
And at his heaviest blows hold still.
He takes my softened heart and beats it;
The sparks fly off at every blow;
He turns it o'er and o'er and heats it,
And lets it cool, and makes it glow;
And yet I whisper--"_As God will!_"
And in his mighty hand hold still.
Why should I murmur? for the sorrow
Thus only longer-lived would be;
Its end may come, and will to-morrow,
When God has done his work in me;
So I say trusting--"_As God will!_"
And, trusting to the end, hold still.
--Julius Sturm.