The refiner's fire bubbled
And troubled my life of gold
Then, I was ever humbled
At the scum that rose, so cold
May the surface, more, be skimmed
By the great hands of the Master
That His goodness flow to the brim
Refining me for what does matter
And troubled my life of gold
Then, I was ever humbled
At the scum that rose, so cold
May the surface, more, be skimmed
By the great hands of the Master
That His goodness flow to the brim
Refining me for what does matter
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