The Potter's Clay

by Lynn Self

Without a form or purpose
I am as a lump of clay.
My destiny is in the Potter's hand--
I do not choose my way.

I am as yet unyielded
To the Potter's skillful hand,
And He needs to prepare my formlessness
For the molding He has planned.

Once in the Potter's hands
I struggle to take on shape--
Sometimes my clay is smooth and free;
At other times I break!

It takes a lot of patience
To make me a worthy vessel--
The process thus, cannot be hurried;
It will be a mighty wrestle!

Yes, stretching and pounding
Is an inevitable part--
In the way I'll be transformed--
Into His work of art.

And although I have been placed
Under tension and duress
Since the Potter first had found me,
Tried me by His firey test--

I cannot go throughout this life
Without some grief or pain--
My life would lack the strength and depth
That victories would gain.

So it's best to have a yieldedness
To that which He has planned--
For in the end of all His work
I'll be made in the image of...

The Great

I AM!