IN POTTER'S HAND - A NICE POEM WRITTEN BY SOMEONE I KNOW

Though I am useless miry clay

Yet I am still in My Master’s Hands

Though others look down and scorn seeing me

But still I rest in My Saviors Hand.

I may not glitter like the purest of gold

Or reveal the radiance like refined silver

Even though I may not posses even a polished texture

I still remain in My Potter’s hand

My Master never grows fatigue while working on me

Neither does He get fed up with useless clay like me

Day and Night He toils and works endlessly

To make me as His own precious masterpiece.

There are painful scrubbing & Tormenting fire

Many a time I fell and scream to retire

Still He smiles and says, “Not yet my dear still more to go!”

And continues His diligent work of molding me.

One day I will turn to be my Master’s Beautiful work piece

Reflecting all that He planned and desired of me.

That moment I always long for.

To see My Savior delight fully in me!