Explore "The Empty Bowl" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I held the golden vessel of my soul / And prayed that God would fill it from on high. / Day after day the importuning cry / Grew stronger-grew, a heaven-accusing dole / Because no sacred waters laved my bowl. / ‘So full the fountain, Lord, wouldst Thou deny / The little needed for a soul's supply? / I ask but this small portion of Thy whole. ' / Then from the vast invisible Somewhere, / A voice, as one love-authorised by Him, / Spake, and the tumult of my heart was stilled. / ‘Who wants the waters must the bowl prepare; / Pour out the self, that chokes it to the brim, / But emptied vessels, from the source are filled. '