Oh, to be nothing, nothing,
Only to lie at His feet,
A broken and emptied vessel,
For the Master’s use made meet.
Emptied that He might fill me,
As forth to His service I go;
Broken, that so unhindered
His life through me might flow.
Oh, to be nothing, nothing,
Only to lie at His feet,
A broken and emptied vessel,
For the Master’s use made meet.
Oh, to be nothing, nothing,
Only as led by His hand;
A messenger at His gateway,
Only waiting for His command;
Only an instrument ready
His praises to sound at His will,
Willing, should He not require me,
In silence to wait on Him still.
Oh, to be nothing, nothing,
Only to lie at His feet,
A broken and emptied vessel,
For the Master’s use made meet.
Oh, to be nothing, nothing,
Painful the humbling may be,
Yet low in the dust I’d lay me
That the world might my Savior see.
Rather be nothing, nothing,
To Him let all voices be raised:
He is the Fountain of blessing,
He only is meet to be praised.
-- Georgiana M. Taylor, 1869.
