WHEREFORE GLORIFY YE THE LORD IN THE FIRES.—Is. xxiv. 15.

Help me, Lord, to glorify thee, In the fires to sing thy praise, With my heart to justify thee All these dark and doleful days. Should I bask in beams of glory All the days I sojourn here, Would I then believe the story, That this world is dark and drear? Would I ever turn to Heaven, With an ardent sweet desire, If to me ’twere never given Thus to pass through sorrow’s fire? Not from paths of fragrant roses Will the rebel call on God, Not till Jesus interposes, Planting thorns along my road. Burning fires can ne’er alarm me, When my Savior’s voice I hear, Barbed arrows cannot harm me, With the balm of Gilead near. Sorrow’s flames will purify me, Barbed arrows harmless fall, If I praise and glorify thee In the fires, my Life! my All!