The Perfect Potter

I’m in the hands of the Potter:

My life was useless clay,

Until His gentle hands took me

From the storage room that day.

He took this hardened lump of dirt

And squeezed again and again;

I really did not know Him then

Or what was in His plan.

And when my heart was ready –

My will and life would yield

To the hands of the Perfect Potter –

He took me to His wheel.

I could not see what His eyes saw,

To me, this lump was a mess;

What could He possible do with it?

I am clay – no more, no less.

But He proved me wrong upon His wheel,

For as He pressed this clay,

I became just what He planned for me –

Complete in Him that day.

My clay is now His vessel;

He uses it as He wills.

My life – His plan, My will in His hand:

Perfected upon His wheel.

“…as the clay is in the potter’s hand, so are ye in mine…”

Jeremiah 128:6

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