The Fire of Love

If thou would'st slay thy wrong desire,
Thy hate and ills of every kind.
Plunge them in LOVE'S consuming fire;
Love is the furnace of the mind.

Whate'er their kind, degree, or name,
The evils, which thy heart enthrall,
It matters not, LOVE'S mighty flame
Shall burn or purify them all.

'Tis true, it costs thee much of pain,
And thou dost seem to suffer loss;
But wisdom bids thee not restrain
The fire, that only burns the dross.

The golden ore, which thou hast cast
In LOVE'S consuming fire and strife,
Fears not the fiercest furnace blast.
But brightens in its flames of life.

— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXI.