The Master was searching for a vessel to use;
On the shelf there were many - which one
would He choose?
Take me, cried the gold one, I'm shiny and
I'm of great value and I do things just right.
My beauty and lustre will outshine the rest
And for someone like You, Master, gold would
be the best!
The Master passed on with no word at all;
He looked at a silver urn, narrow and tall;
I'll serve You, dear Master, I'll pour out Your
And I'll be at Your table whenever You dine,
My lines are so graceful, my carvings so true,
And my silver will always compliment You.
Unheeding the Master passed on to the brass,
It was widemouthed and shallow, and polished
Here! Here! cried the vessel, I know I will do,
Place me on Your table for all men to view.
Look at me, called the goblet of crystal so
My transparency shows my contents so dear,
Though fragile am I, I will serve You with
And I'm sure I'll be happy in Your house to
The Master came next to a vessel of wood,
Polished and carved, it solidly stood.
You may use me, dear Master, the wooden bowl
But I'd rather You used me for fruit, not for
Then the Master looked down and saw a vessel
Empty and broken it helplessly lay.
No hope had the vessel that the Master might
To cleanse and make whole, to fill and to use.
Ah! This is the vessel I've been hoping to find,
I will mend and use it and make it all Mine.
I need not the vessel with pride of its self;
Nor the one who is narrow to sit on the shelf;
Nor the one who is bigmouthed and shallow and
Nor one who displays his contents so proud;
Not the one who thinks he can do all things
But this plain earthy vessel filled with My
power and might.
Then gently He lifted the vessel of clay.
Mended and cleansed it and filled it that day.
Spoke to it kindly. There's work you must do,
Just pour out to others as I pour into you.