The Potter's House
Just as the clay is in the potter's hand
I'm a made vessel in God's own hand
Just as he makes each vessel out of sand
So God made me from the dusty land
Just as he breaks the cup, and makes a jar
If it pleases Him, then why keep me?
Make me a vessel unto honour
Make me a vessel made of fine gold
That I might be fit for thy own use
Or break me again, still I suit you.