THY LUMP OF CLAY

Empty of SELF, LORD,
Thy lump of clay;
Shape me and mold me
In Thy skilled way.


Helpless and hopeless
The ways of my will;
Strong and with purpose
Thy hands shape me still!


Though I see nothing
In me but crude earth,
Thine eye envisions
A vessel of worth.


Make me of use, Lord,
For I am Thine own,
Formed for Thy pleasure,
Thy praises alone.
E. L. Byland