C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Julius Sturm (1816–1896)

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 hold 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.

He kindles for my profit purely

Affliction’s glowing fiery brand,

And all his heaviest blows are surely

Inflicted by a Master-hand:

So I say, praying, As God will!

And hope in him, and suffer still.