A poem from Luci Shaw’s The Sighting (Harold Shaw Publishers, Wheaton, Illinois: 1981):
(Image: by useful_fiction at flickr; some rights reserved)Romans 10:20-21; 2 Cor. 4:7
Each day he seems to shine
from the more primitive pots
the battered bowls
Service may polish silver &
gold up to honor
& I could cry to glitter
like porcelain
or led crystal
But light is a clearer
contrast through my cracks
& flame is cleaner seen
if its container
does not compete