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 The Potter's Clay

The Potter’s Clay

I looked and saw the Potter’s clay.
Conceived in all its worth and purpose.
To comprehend such fine intent, was made.
Behold in all that beauty measured true,
The Workman did with skill to labour all.

Its lovely hues and colours set to good.
The outer garment bright, its form well hewn.
Its detail all mosaic laid and true it was
Then chanced to test its purpose known.
And in an instant hope was need and good seemed waste.

True purpose dashed, its beauty gone aside.
Such form by sin did break it all and loss.
Until that day would come when promised seed,
Being lifted up and pierced did bear the cost.
That in this earthen vessel, now death and ruin.
Receive that treasure which was priceless made.

Not now outward can its worth be known.
Nor eye can yet behold its beauty more.
Tis inward set, a mighty gift, eternal treasure.
The gift of life His very own is given now.

Where look you ought save to His purpose made?
Where look to see His present labour on?
A broken vessel yet, the proof is set within.
The sweet aroma rises in hopes new song.

© Rhomphaeam

 2018/12/28 18:57

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