The Potter’s Hands
A potter forms clay; it is shaped by his hands,
Applying gentle pressure to create what he plans.
Every movement is important, each step he takes,
Forms the piece he makes.
A vessel is only as good as the creators touch,
The one that forms it determines so much.
An amateur may make mistakes,
With vessel flawed, so fragile, it easily breaks.
His effort is worthless and hidden from view,
Or, it is crushed before it is finished, to redo.
However, God perfectly forms us just as He created earth,
Carefully sculpting, never tiring of His work.
His hands, shape us to become,
Beautiful vessels; to hold the Spirit of His Son.
Filled with the oil of joy, and with everlasting peace,
Never to run dry and packed full; with great increase.
We are now, lovely, pure, and undefiled,
Causing our heavenly Father’s heart to smile.
We are bought and paid for, at great price,
It cost the Son of God His life.
The finished work of the heavenly Potter is fine,
To be filled to overflow with His sweet wine.
Each with a design so intricate and unique; set in the rightful place.
Every saved soul, is a masterpiece of His grace.
But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.