O Lord, divine potter of my soul;
I am not a vessel of sterling beauty,
the golden goblet or the silver chalice.
I am an earthen jar crafted in simplicity;
I've become scarred and broken
through my years.
But fill this cup Lord. Let your light
shine through all the cracks and crevices;
I will sparkle in the eyes of men.
When they see how common clay glistens,
it is You shining through me, as I am,
that will draw them to the light within.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very nice imagery used in this