Earthly joy and fame I wanted,
  A name inscribed in glimmering gold.
My fair youth the bribe I offered
  Caring not my heart was cold.

But I found defeat and sorrow
  Often knocking at my door.
And it seemed that each tomorrow
  Would bring heartaches many more.

In despair I cried, "Christ to thy
  Will I yield. Thy way now I'll trust.
Oh Blessed Potter, will you take me?
  Purge this vessel of foul dust?

"Break me, melt me, mold me, make me
  A vessel cleansed from stain of sin;
A vessel for thy use and glory,
  Naught of pride or self within."

Did He wound me, scold me harshly,
  Turn from me His face away?
No, into His arms He took me,
  Whispered, "Child, you're mine today."

A vessel am I now for Him,
  Resting in the Potter's hand;
Seeking for His glory only,
  Yielding to the use He planned.