The Master Stood In His Garden

The Master Stood In His Garden
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The Master stood in his garden, among his illes so fair,
Which his own right hand had planted, and trained with tenderest care
He looked on thely anowy with observant nye blossoma, and marked
That have downdly drooping, for their leaves were parched and dry

“My Illies have nood to be watered, “the heavenly Master sald
Wherein shall I draw drooping head It for them, and raise ench
Close, close to his feet in the pathway, all empty and trail and small
Was an earthen vessel lying, that seemed of no use at all

But the Master saw, and ralaod it which it lay from the dust in
And smiled as he wently whispered, “My work It shall do today
It is but an earthen vessel, but close it is lying to me
It is small, but olean and empty, that is all it needa to be”

So forth to the fountain he bore it, and filed it full to the brim,
How glad was the earthen vessel to be of some use to him
He poured forth the living watera, all over his lities no fair,
Till empty was the vessel, and again he filled it there

The dropping lilies he watered, till, all reviving again
The Master saw with pleasure his labor had not been in vain
His own hand drew the water, refreshing the thirsty flowors,
But he used the earthen vessel to convey the living showers

And then to itself it whispered, as aside he laid It once more:
“I still will ile in his pathway just where I did before:
For clove would I keep to the Master, and empty would I remain
Perchance, some day he may use me to water his flowers again”