The Potter's Clay
Does the clay ask of the potter,
What will you make with me?
Nay, the potter keeps on working
On what He wills it to be,
Just a clump of clay
In the potter’s hand,
He wasn’t merely forming just a man
But, also a woman in silhouette,
Diverse and completely different
To His own delight,
Their individual properties
Can be seen only through His sight,
Sit still potter’s clay, sit still
He is not done with you,
Don’t move, be not stirred
Your finish is not set!
The clay is not solid,
It is still wet
Praise God, He is not done with me yet!