Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Search me and try me, Master, today!
Whiter than snow, Lord, wash me just now,
As in Thy presence humbly I bow.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Wounded and weary, help me, I pray!
Power, all power, surely is Thine!
Touch me and heal me, Savior divine.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Hold o’er my being absolute sway!
Fill with Thy Spirit ’till all shall see
Christ only, always, living in me.

She stood before the rows of empty vessels
One little pot of oil was in her hand
And though she may have never seen a miracle
She willingly obeyed The Lord’s command
She bent and poured the oil into each vessel
It flowed out in a full and steady stream
And did not cease until they said
“There’s not a vessel more”
And then she saw that what she’d had
Was more than what it seemed.

(chorus)

Pour out your life freely now
See what the Master can do
Though it seems unbelievable
He can use me
He can use you
Though all you have seems weak and poor
He sets before you an open door
One pot of oil becomes so much more
When you pour it out to The Lord

(verse 2)

Each day I face my row of empty vessels
I’m conscious of the weakness of my hands
And though I know I can’t perform a miracle
By His grace I follow His commands
Lord, pour Your life through me into each vessel
Each one that You would place within my care
And let me not cease giving ‘til there’s not a vessel more
Father, let my life be poured out
May it ever be my prayer

(repeat chorus)

(tag)
Won’t you pour it out to The Lord

Have Thine Own Way.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Thou art the Potter, I am the clay.
Mold me and make me after Thy will,
While I am waiting, yielded and still.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Search me and try me, Master, today!
Whiter than snow, Lord, wash me just now,
As in Thy presence humbly I bow.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Wounded and weary, help me, I pray!
Power, all power, surely is Thine!
Touch me and heal me, Savior divine.

Have Thine own way, Lord! Have Thine own way!
Hold o’er my being absolute sway!
Fill with Thy Spirit ’till all shall see
Christ only, always, living in me.

Words: Ad­e­laide A. Poll­ard, 1907
Music: Adelaide, George C. Steb­bins

Oh To Be Nothing

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 show.

Refrain

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.

Refrain

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 our voices be raised,
He is the Fountain of blessing,
He only is meet to be praised.

Refrain

Georgina M. Taylor 1869
Arranged by Philip P. Bliss

Channels Only

How I praise Thee, precious Savior,
That Thy love laid hold of me;
Thou hast saved and cleansed and filled me
That I might Thy channel be.

Refrain

Channels only, blessèd Master,
But with all Thy wondrous power
Flowing through us, Thou canst use us
Every day and every hour.

Just a channel full of blessing,
To the thirsty hearts around;
To tell out Thy full salvation
All Thy loving message sound.

Refrain

Emptied that Thou shouldest fill me,
A clean vessel in Thy hand;
With no power but as Thou givest
Graciously with each command.

Refrain

Witnessing Thy power to save me,
Setting free from self and sin;
Thou who boughtest to possess me,
In Thy fullness, Lord, come in.

Refrain

Jesus, fill now with Thy Spirit
Hearts that full surrender know;
That the streams of living water
From our inner self may flow.

Refrain

Words: Mary E. Max­well
Music: Ada R. Gibbs, Twen­ty-Four Gems of Sac­red Song, 1900