There she sits both night and day
On a tiny stool and forms her clay
Skilled hands now old, and wet, and caked
Molds the treasure she will make
Upon her potter’s wheel…
She spins and spins and as she does
She thinks, as she whispers a prayer
Lord, says she, I am molding this clay just for thee
Daughter, says He, I am molding you, just for me
And in His hands the clay spins and spins, upon the potter’s wheel
Lord, Why does it hurt so much? Asks she.
Daughter, says He, tis lessons to learn with twist and turns
On the Potter’s wheel that brings humility and obedience you see
The song of the clay is often learned through enduring much spinning and pain
My grace I give, as you surrender to me, your heart, to do my will
Yielded and broken so all can see what beauty this process will bring
Courage and strength, joy and delight, as you struggle under the Potter’s hands
From dust you were made, and dust you return, but your spirit still remains
I was formed in the womb, of water and clay, what a mystery to behold
For it’s in the hands of a Holy God
That He forms the clay this way
Round and round the wheel we spin ‘til the Potter perfects His design
Put in the fire to complete the task what beauty comes in the end
Sing, little one. Sing!
Let your spirit soar and reign
While spinning on the potter’s wheel there’s changes you will gain
Formed by the Potter’s touch, there will be joy and pain
Purified by fire, this treasure will remain
The clay once rough and battered not fit for anything
A song of victorious melody, heard, when the clay-pot sings…
Sorrow is for the night…but in the morning it will bring
A heart full of joy, instead of suffering!
Written by: Marla Shaw 7/1/2010
©2010
I love it.
Thank you! 🙂