The Potter’s Wheel
He framed the vessel first in his thoughts
Then the beautiful work his hands did wrought
He said, This is for my use, let me give him true worth
That he may dwell in my presence and stay in my court
Now for this very clay, he sought after
Guess the clay said I’m busy, check back later!
For this very clay he searched
So his leakages he could patch
That he could pour himself into him
And give him muscles that cannot the gym
Was it, not you, I sent my only son to be slain for?
Was it not you, I redeemed from the curse of the law?
Did Jesus die so that men could remain unsaved?
Do you now take pleasure in the grave?
Have you forgotten how you first slipped off and broke into pieces?
Didn’t I pick you and fashioned you to my taste, made you my masterpiece?
Who told you you could live without your origin?
Look, It’s fine clay you can boast of your possessions but not the oxygen!
Oh clay, you are not who you are not!
With Jesus my son’s blood you’ve been bought
why do you still claim long-forgiven faults
Why accept vain invitations that, fertilize your fascination
And then set you up for assassination!
Oh, Clay! Remember the potter’s will
Before he formed you, he had an intent!
How then can you be fit for his use?
When you get yourself filled with contrary contents
before I formed you I had intentions
You can only see how I see when you give me your full attention
Heed to my Instructions with which you should function
And let my spirit give you the unction
But the clay says I will only follow you to a certain junction
Your way is narrow and the gate strait
In a world like this, how can one keep holiness in his trait?
Clay, do you think it’s by your power or might?
Or is it your energy you will use to shine in the world as a light?
I created you for my glorious USE
In the wrong hands, your purpose will be abused
Without my voice, you will be one with no bearing, confused
Stay on my wheels so I can make you all I had in mind, do not Refuse!
Stay on the potter’s wheel, Clay
So in the end, you won’t be a Castaway
With Fire in your bones
You cannot be the devil’s Comfort zone
Away from his breaking, moulding, firing and touch
Your destiny will walk on crutches
Void and empty of reality
Clueless about your true identity
No one gets lost doing the potter’s will
Consent to his beckoning and stay on his wheel
Then his voice won’t be vague, for you will hear his Accent clear and still.
He’s the potter we are his clay
