Potter and Clay.

Down by the house of the potter
I went with the Lord one day,
And I watched while he slowly fashioned
A vessel from plastic clay.
Slowly on the wheel he turned it,
Shaping it with patient skill
Till the plastic clay was molded,
According to the Master's will.
But as I watched His working
He turned with a look of pain,
For the vessel in His hands was fractured,
His work seemed alas in vain.
Something in the clay had marred it,
Somewhere there has been a strain,
And the work must be suspended,
The potter must begin again.
Then as I watched and wondered
He took up the clay once more,
And around on the wheel he turned it,
And fashioned it o'er and o'er.
Patiently he pressed and shaped it
With a bright and smiling face,
Till at last from the wheel he took it,
A vessel of surpassing grace.
O Lord, Thou art our Potter
And we the plastic clay,
Mold us to Thy perfect will,
And lead us in Thy way.