The Vessel of Clay

The Master was searching for a vessel to use,
Before Him were many, which one would He choose?

"Take me," cried the gold one,
"I'm shiny and bright.
I am of great value, and I do things just right
My beauty and luster will outshine the rest
And for someone like You,
Master, gold would be 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 wine,
I'll be on your table, whenever You dine
My lines are so graceful, my carvings so true
And silver will certainly compliment you."

Unheeding, the Master passed on to the vessel of brass,
Wide-mouthed and shallow and polished like glass,
"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 clear
Though fragile I am, I will serve you with fear,
My transparency show my contents so dear,
Though fragile I am, I will serve you with pride,
And I’m sure I’ll be happy in your home to abide.”

The Master came next to the vessel of wood
Polished and carved, it solidly stood
"You may use me, dear Master," the wooden bowl said,
"But I'd rather you use me for fruit, not for bread!"

Then the Master looked down on a vessel of clay,
Empty and broken it helplessly lay,
No hope had the vessel that the Master might choose
To cleanse and make whole, to fill and to use.

"Ah, this is the vessel I've been hoping to find,
I'll mend it and use it and make it all mine,
I need not the vessel with the pride of itself,
Nor one that is narrow, to sit on the shelf,

Nor one that is big-mouthed and shallow and loud,
Nor one that displays its contents so proud.
Not the one who thinks it can do all things just right,
But this plain earthen 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 kindly to it,
"There's work you must do,
Just pour out to others, as I pour into you.."