The Potter and the Clay By Deborah Hiller 3/3/08

Consider the potter,
Who works with the clay.
He is patient and gentle,
He works every day.

He squeezes the clay,
And makes it just right.
He molds it and forms it,
During the day and the night.

The potter uses water,
in the powdery dry clay,
The water is like a blessing,
Or a miracle each day.

The Potter uses fire,
To make the clay hot.
It purifies, it hardens
But pleasant its’ not.

The fire is like a trial,
That we all must go thru.
To come out completed,
by the Potter’s love too.

Being poked and prodded.
Think about the clay,
Though the Potter works hard,
The clay wants its own way.

At times I’m like the clay,
I don’t understand.
What the Potter is doing,
with his own gentle hand.

I came out of the water,
And the painful fire too.
I know now the reason,
Its’ to make me brand new.

The potter only wanted,
For me to be the best,
Since he created me,
I had to stand the test.

He’s worked with such love,
And patience its’ true.
But the potter isn’t finished,
There’s more work for him to do.