Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Art (01/18/07)
- TITLE: The Blacksmith
By Crista Darr
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into flame and forges a weapon fit for its work."
Isaiah 54:16a (NIV)
O’er crags and fields, through veins of earth,
The Mighty One looks down.
Longing, searching darkest vales,
No goodness to be found.
Exhuming from the dregs of soil,
He pulls me to His breast.
A worthless, blackened mass of ore,
In holy arms, finds rest.
Turning me with expert hands,
The Craftsman looks to see,
Not poisoned lead, nor sparkling lies,
But visions of glory.
With outstretched arms, He lays me in
The cradle of affliction,
To purge the dross embedded deep
In chambers I thought hidden.
The Blacksmith stands before the forge
Stoking glowing coals,
That rage into a brilliant flame
To purify my soul.
The intense heat of sacrifice
Scorches me with sorrows,
As foolish pride, in plumes of smoke
Rolls out ancient bellows.
In agony, this molten ore
Cries out to his Redeemer,
Who steps into the blazing forge
To soothe me in the fire.
At His touch, doubt disintegrates,
Falls to ashes at His feet.
The worthless shell that once was me,
In Him, is made complete.
My form, the purest silver,
Refined by holy flames,
Reflects the Blacksmith’s image,
Bringing glory to His name.
Pliant in His skillful hands,
He shapes this mighty sword,
A polished, gleaming masterpiece
To battle for our Lord.
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