The Potter's Clay

I'm nothing but a lump of clay in the potter's hand
Formless and shapeless with no use
Meaningless and bound to fail
Of all those around, He scoops me up

I'm nothing but a lump of clay in the potter's hand
For my fate is determined by my master
To make a perfect finish with me
Have Thine own way, Master! have thine own way
For I'm the clay mold me after your will

I'm nothing but a lump of clay in the potter's hand
As he begins kneading my grooves
I feel the great warmth of His hand
Which stretches me mercilessly
In distress I realized I need the grace of the potter
Helpless I am for it's so unbearable

I'm nothing but a lump of clay in the potter's hand
Just clay in His hand
He keeps molding and shaping me for a good cause
He smooths out my edges and builds me up
For I know the potter possesses great plans