The Potter's Hand

The Potter’s Hand To the Potter’s house I went down one day , And watched Him while moulding the vessels of clay . And many a wonderful lesson I drew , As I noted the process the clay went thro . Trampled and broken , downtrodden and rolled , To render more plastic and fit for the mold , How like the clay that is human , I thought , When in Heavenly hands to perfection is brought . For self must be cast as the dust at His feet , Before it is ready for service made meet . And pride must be broken , and self-will lost- All laid on the altar , whatever the cost . But lo! by and by a delicate vase Of wonderful beauty and exquisite grace Was it once the vile clay? Ah, yes ; yet how strange , The Potter has wrought so marvelous a change ! Not a trace of the earth , nor mark of the clay , The fires of the furnace have burned them away . Jan Bagwell God Bless !