Fire-Words

for a writer and an editor, the following poem from Amy Carmichael is terrifying to contemplate...

Fire-Words
Amy Carmichael

I cried and said, “O God, my words are cold!
The frosted frond of fern or feathery palm
On whitened window wrought
As near to burning are, as these my words;
Oh that they were as flames!”

God answered me:
“Thou shalt have words
But at this price, that thou must first be burnt,
Burnt by red embers from a secret fire,
Scorched by fierce heats and withering winds that sweep
Through all thy being, carrying thee afar
From old delights. Doth not the ardent fire
Consume the mountain's heart before the flow
Of fervent lava ? Wouldst thou easefully,
As from cool pleasant fountains flow in fire?
Say, can thy heart endure
Or can thy hands be strong
In the day that I shall deal with thee?

For first the iron must enter thine own soul,
And wound and brand it, scarring awful lines
Indelibly upon it, and a hand
Resistless in a tender terribleness
Must thoroughly purge it, fashioning its pain
To power that leaps in fire.
Not otherwise, and by no lighter touch,
Are fire-words wrought."

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... “I am convinced that the world is not a mere bog in which men and women trample themselves and die. Something magnificent is taking place here amidst the cruelties and tragedies, and the supreme challenge to intelligence is that of making the noblest and best in our curious heritage prevail.”
-- C.A. Beard


"Let everything that has breath praise the LORD!"