Lord, here I am, a vessel that is shattered.
Broken by things that I thought mattered.
Cast me not away into the potter's field.
Let me once again climb upon your wheel.
Make me a vessel that you can use
And Lord, this time, I will not refuse.
Though Your molding and the fire may cause me pain,
I will not turn back. I will not refrain.
A vessel of honor is what I desire to be,
Filled with the Living Water pouring out from me
To those who are hurting and in deep sorrow,
To those who have no hope for tomorrow.
A vessel of dishonor I do not want to be.
To be filled with the rubble of pain and misery.
Create in me a chosen vessel for yourself
And hide me in a dark room on a shelf.
Until the time comes for You to send me on
To tell Your people to catch a vision
Of the time when You will come and catch Your Bride
On that glorious day to be by Your side.
As a shattered vessel I stand before Your
Make of me a vessel that You can call Your own.
A vessel of honor is what I desire to be.
Filled with the Living Water pouring out from me.
Deaunna L. Newton
May 31, 1999
used with permission