The Potter and the Clay


Awake again at 3 am,
the Potter on my mind.
This lump of clay is marred again,
Your hands to mend in time.

To recognize how flawed I am,
and how wonderful You are.
Thankful for Your skillful touch,
to be Your work of art.

My brokenness belongs to You,
to do with as You please.
To mold me to the servant,
I know that I should be.

As the wheel is spinning ’round,
within Your hands my heart.
To feel Your loving presence,
a comfort from the start.

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