I am a hammer in my Master's hand

I am a hammer in my Master’s hand

I can’t complain

He hits me hard

or He hits me soft

He uses me for His work

or He throws me in the dark

I can’t complain

He praises me

for fulfilling His purpose

Or He may just

call me useless

I can’t complain

He loves me

for who I am

or He may simply

call me rustic metal

I can’t complain

He hits me hard

on hard objects

His hands are soft

And Love His intent

I know the truth

Hence, I can’t complain

What is seen is not true

What is true is not seen

I see what I see

I still can’t complain

No choice left for me

but to watch Him work hard

in His workshop

He does not delegate

nor does He rest a moment

I wait for my turn

Even if it is a heartburn

I am hammer

In my Master’s hand

I can’t complain