Hammer Song

It’s strange the song the hammer sings,
With every strike and pound that rings.
For as it works, I hear its call,
“Come, to those who dare! Come all!"

“The Master who is holding me,
Must needs to form Himself in thee.
With circumstance His forge to heat;
Trials He wields as tools to beat.

“Be wary, friend, my home is hard—
A wilderness, and barren yard.
Yet beauty here, He’s forming deep,
For all who yield, His image keep.”