Should I be your clay Lord?
Pounded and kneaded under your Masterful Hands,

Should You scoop me from the river of comfort called “my own”?
Found in the muddy streams of life, of discontentment and of discouragement,

Will You to make me into pottery?
From raw earth to usefulness,
When I am purposely blind to vision of the vessel that You designed for me,

Will I submit, Lord, to the fiery oven of this present struggle?
And make me into a brick mortared into your Grand Craftsmanship.

Make me Your clay, Lord,
Let your Hands lovingly engrave your touch,
Carve your image in my life,
For I am yours Lord,
Even if just a clay.

photo by:www.bananafactory.org