Balanced and shaped the arrow must be,
Hid in His quiver, God’s armoury.
Polished and oiled the sword must stand
Waiting the grip of the Owner’s hand;
Silent, inactive, ready to use,
Rustless, not restless, for Him to choose.
One small, smooth stone in a shepherd’s sling
A giant to his end will swiftly bring.
Simple trumpets joyfully blown -
A mighty army is o’erthrown.
Trumpet or stone, Lord, let me now be,
In battling for right, of some use to Thee.
Thy great house contains vessels indeed
For every purpose and every need.
Clean and empty and ready today,
Lord, here I am, use me I pray
To bring life-draught to some thirsty soul,
Or words of comfort to make men whole.
Thou canst take a Saul and make him be
A chosen, fit vessel unto Thee -
The past forgiv’n, a new theme, new power,
To bear Thy name till the latest hour.
In some small measure I would be
Chosen, fitted, and used of Thee.
