GOD IS AT THE ANVIL
God is at the anvil, beating out the sun;
Where the molten metal spills,
At His forge among the hills
He has hammered out the glory of a day that's done.
Where the molten metal spills,
At His forge among the hills
He has hammered out the glory of a day that's done.
God is at the anvil, welding golden bars;
In the scarlet-streaming flame
He is fashioning a frame
For the shimmering silver beauty of the evening stars.
In the scarlet-streaming flame
He is fashioning a frame
For the shimmering silver beauty of the evening stars.
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