The Potter

                               “But now, O Lord, thou art our father: we are the clay, 

                      and thou our potter,  and we all are the work of Thine hand"  

                                                                  Isaiah 64:8

     

                          "Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump

                        to make one vessel unto honour, and another to dishonour?

              What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known

            endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction: 

        And that he might make known the riches of his glory on the vessels of mercy,

                which he had afore prepared unto glory, Even us, whom he hath called, 

                                         not of the Jews only, but also of the Gentiles?"

    Romans 9:21-24

The Potter

An old man this potter yet truly content,

In long hours of labour his days have been spent

But his work is his joy, and each vessel designed

Follows the pattern which he has in mind.

The choice of the item is totally His,

He decides the purpose of each, so it is

A cup or a bowl, whether fancy or plain,

If not to his liking he makes it again.

Until it is perfect it just will not do,

So he breaks down the clay, beginning anew.

When conformed to his pattern the glaze is applied,

It is fired then and finished, set on one side

Soon to work it must go, and it certainly will

Render good service,  it’s task shall fulfill.

“Lord, Thou art our Potter, Thy people the clay,

Whom Thou dost fashion in Thine own sovereign way”

We are as raw clay in our Lord’s skillful hands,

He brings to perfection His own perfect plans.

“Make us and mold us dear Master we ask,

To accomplish by grace our appointed task

Vessels of mercy,  fit would we be

To bring honour and glory our Saviour to Thee.

Yet now so imperfect, one day we shall be

Conformed to Thy likeness when Thy dear Face we see”

                                                                               S.Hirst

    An illustration in a book about craftsmen in days gone by caused this poem to be written,

The look of loving concentration on the potters face made one think that he had 

pride and joy in his work and was seeking do his best with the material he was working with.

The illustrations shown above are ai generated art