The Master was searching
For a vessel to use;
On the shelf there were many.
Which one to choose?

“Take me,” cried the gold one,
“I’m shiny and bright,
I’m of great value
And do things just right.”

“My beauty and lustre
Will outshine the rest.
And for someone like you.
Gold would be the best.”

The Master passed on
Without saying a word,
He looked at the silver urn
Narrow and tall.

“I’ll serve you, Master,
I’ll pour out your wine,
And I’ll be at your table,
Whenever you dine.”

“My lines are so perfect and graceful,
My carvings so true,
And my silver will always
Compliment you.”

Unheeding, the Master,
Passed onto the brass,
It was 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 out the goblet
Of crystal so clear,
“My transparency shows
My contents so dear.”

“Though fragile am I,
I’ll serve you with pride.
And I’m sure I’ll be happy,
In your house to abide.”

The Master came next,
To a vessel of wood.
Polished and carved,
It solidly stood.

“You may use me master,
The wooden bowl said,
“But I’d prefer if you use me
For fruit not for bread.”

Then the Master looked down,
And saw a vessel of clay;
Empty and broken,
It helplessly lay.

“Ah! This vessel
I’ve been hoping to find,
I’ll mend and use it,
And make it all mine.”

“I need not the vessel
With pride in itself,
Nor the one that is narrow
To sit on the shelf.”

“Nor the one who is big-mouthed
And shallow and loud,
Nor the one who displays,
His contents so proud.”

“Not the one who thinks,
He can do all things right;
But this plain earthy vessel,
Filled with my power and might.”

Then gently, the Master lifted,
The vessel of clay,
Mended and cleansed it,
And filled it that day.”

Then He spoke to it kindly,
“There’s work you must do,
Just pour out to others,
As I pour into you.”