Awake, O winds, and on my garden blow!
Waft, waft the fragrance whence the lilies grow,
Thou south wind, gentle, balmy, mild; And thou,
O north wind, raw, and cold, and wild.

I need you both, my purpose to fulfil,
To make each tender plant more strong, until
Mature, arrayed in blooming splendor's glow,
With joy I reap what in much toil I sow.

See the Refiner watch the silver ore!
See there beneath the crucible the fires roar!
See how His skillful hand the dross removes,
And how each time the metal's quality improves.

And so the process is repeated seven times
Till the Refiner's image on the silver shines;
Then watch the joy reflected in His beaming face
When He His likeness in the crucible can trace.

The bird that migrates to a distant shore
Awaits an adverse wind to help it soar,
To reach the elevation for its flight
Above the clouds, far, far from human sight.

So things that seem to hinder and oppose,
A loving Saviour-God in wisdom chose
To help me soar on eagle's wings to Him,
Where in His presence earthly scenes grow dim.

There will I worship and renew my strength,
Sit at His feet to hear His Word at length,
Explaining mysteries that have perplexed me long,
Till all my burning heart and soul bursts into song.

E. H. Hageman