I am the clay with no shape
In the hand of the porter
Turning on the wheel
I am the porter’s will
As He rolls, knead and mould
He is always in control
With vision clear
He holds me so dear

Many a vessel he made
All in different shape
And beauty not the same

I am a work of art
And he is best at art
He created the heaven and earth
He bless me and make me live on earth

When am broken I return to Him
In repentance I turn to Him
He require nothing of me but to worship Him
And forgiveness is up to Him

At first I am with no shape and beauty
In the end I am full of blessing and beauty.