Vessel repaired

The miseries of life flow like a free-flowing river;

The intermittent rain of pain dries the soul,
Draining the essence of living in this clay dwelling.
Sending constant torments that shatter the broken spirit.

My spirit desperately cries out for help in anguish and pain,

Gasping for something to satisfy just for a while,
Till I heard a tender, sweet call telling my spirit.
My son, come home to me and I will give you rest.

In the eyes of my faith I saw the bleeding hands

Of my great Master and Lord so open;
His love and compassion are my crowns for all my life's troubles.
He took for Himself in my stead that I might live.
All the cares and burdens He bore for Himself;
When I am frail, He gives strength to my bones;
My shattered life, like a potter puts back the broken pieces,
Back to where I had been, a vessel for His purpose.