The Potter’s Clay

IN life’s deepest sorrow when it seems the pain is too much to bear, the scrapes and bruises and festering wounds, leave a vessel marred until there is no place to go, but back to the Potter’s wheel from which we were made!

Of colored earth, a vessel was made, a piece of clay formed at the potter’s
wheel, baking perfect and good.

Taking His paddle with a scoop of earth, tempering on the spinning wheel,
the rotating force makes me dizzy with its busy motion.
The knife of the potter scrapes the unneeded clay, baking again and sealed
once more, a new vessel in the hand of the potter!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s