The Old Refiner (Poem)

The Old Refiner

He sat by a fire of seven-fold heat,
As He watched by the precious ore,
And closer He bent with a searching gaze
As He heated it more and more.

He knew He had ore that could stand the test,
And He wanted the finest gold
To mould as a crown for the King to wear,
Set with gems with a price untold.

So He laid our gold in the burning fire,
Tho' we fain would have said Him 'Nay,'
And He watched the dross that we had not seen,
And it melted and passed away.

And the gold grew brighter and yet more bright,
But our eyes were so dim with tears,
We saw but the fire--not the Master's hand,
And questioned with anxious fears.

Yet our gold shone out with a richer glow,
As it mirrored a Form above,
That bent o'er the fire, tho' unseen by us,
With a look of ineffable love.

Can we think that it pleases His loving heart
To cause us a moment's pain?
Ah, no! but He saw through the present cross
The bliss of eternal gain.

So He waited there with a watchful eye,
With a love that is strong and sure,
And His gold did not suffer a bit more heat,
Than was needed to make it pure.

(Taken from Streams In The Desert devotional)

Arthur T. Pierson - Our Father, who seeks to perfect His saints in holiness, knows the value of the refiner's fire. It is with the most precious metals that the assayer takes the most pains, and subjects them to the hot fire, because such fires melt the metal, and only the molten mass releases its alloy or takes perfectly its new form in the mould. The old refiner never leaves his crucible, but sits down by it, lest there should be one excessive degree of heat to mar the metal. But as soon as he skims from the surface the last of the dross, and sees his own face reflected, he puts out the fire.

You may also be blessed by this wonderful illustration:

The Silversmith's Reflection

Vessels Unto Honour (Hymn)

Vessels Unto Honour

In a great house, there are vessels
Some of wood and some of clay
There are great ones and small ones
You can choose the ones you may.
Some for service, some for beauty,
Others bear refreshing wine.
Lord I care not how You use me,
Please just hear this prayer of mine.

Chorus:
Make me a vessel unto honour
The fame of this world, I refuse
Sanctify me, cleanse me and fill me
Meet for the Master’s own use.

Lord, my vessel is empty
It is purged from dross and sin
By your precious blood on Calvary,
It has cleansed me now within.
Tho’ unworthy for Your service,
Yet Your grace is mine today.
So I offer You my vessel
For your use and this I pray.

Chorus:
Make me a vessel unto honour
The fame of this world, I refuse
Sanctify me, cleanse me and fill me
Yes I’ll be meet, for the Master’s own use.

Words and Music by Julia Montoro

2 Timothy 2:20-21 But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and of silver, but also of wood and of earth; and some to honour, and some to dishonour. If a man therefore purge himself from these, he shall be a vessel unto honour, sanctified, and meet for the master's use, and prepared unto every good work.

The Vessel (Poem)

The Vessel

The Master was searching for a vessel to use;
On the shelf there were many - which one would He choose?
"Take me," cried the gold one, "I'm shiny and bright,
I'm of great value and I do things just right.
My beauty and luster will outshine the rest
And for someone like You, Master, gold would be the best!"

The Master passed on with no word at all;
He looked at a silver urn, narrow and tall;
"I'll serve You, dear Master, I'll pour out Your wine
And I'll be at Your table whenever You dine,
My lines are so graceful, my carvings so true,
And my silver will always compliment You."

Unheeding the Master passed on to the brass,
It was wide-mouthed and shallow, and polished like glass.
"Here! Here!" cried the vessel, "I know I will do,
Place me on Your table for all men to view."
"Look at me," called the goblet of crystal so clear,
"My transparency shows my contents so dear,
Though fragile am I, I will serve You with pride,
And I'm sure I'll be happy in Your house to abide."

The Master came next to a vessel of wood,
Polished and carved, it solidly stood.
"You may use me, dear Master," the wooden bowl said,
"But I'd rather You used me for fruit, not for bread!"

Then the Master looked down and saw a vessel of clay.
Empty and broken it helplessly lay.
No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose,
To cleanse and make whole, to fill and to use.

"Ah! This is the vessel I've been hoping to find,
I will mend and use it and make it all Mine.
I need not the vessel with pride of its self;
Nor the one who is narrow to sit on the shelf;
Nor the one who is big-mouthed and shallow and loud;
Nor one who displays his contents so proud;
Not the one who thinks he can do all things just right;
But this plain earthy vessel filled with My power and might."

Then gently He lifted the vessel of clay.
Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day.
Spoke to it kindly. "There's work you must do,
Just pour out to others as I pour into you."

~Beulah V. Cornwall~

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels,
that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.
2nd Corinthians 4:7