On the Potter's wheel I sat,
and felt His mighty touch;
I heard my own voice asking Him,
"Why have You made me such"?
"Oh~take me quickly from your wheel,
don't mold this vessel more;
Have you not chiseled long enough,
so much longer than before."
"With every turning of your wheel,
some part of me is changed;
And somehow who I used to be,
is now all rearranged."
I felt the wheel begin to slow,
as it came to a halt;
What were those last few drops
that fell?~they had a taste of salt.
As He removed me from the wheel,
I could not help but see;
Those drops were falling from His
eyes, and each one fell on me.
Why was the Potter crying so?
What could have made Him cry?
When I felt such a great relief,
to be free~or so thought I.
Free from the Potter's wheel at last,
Free from the chisel's pain;
A vessel complete from the Potter's hand,
The wheel would not turn me again.
How I did glisten, He must be proud,
to have fashioned a vessel so rare;
Surely I'd bring Him much honor,
A treasure beyond all compare.
Such visions of grandeur filled me,
as He placed me on the shelf;
I barely noticed His tear~dimmed eyes,
so busy with thoughts of myself.
Merchants were coming into the place,
where we vessels were on display;
Surely I'd be the first to go,
Why~it had to be that way.
How eagerly I watched their faces,
as they examined us all;
Sure enough I was selected,
Joy filled me as I recall.
How could I know what lay ahead,
or what would be expected of me;
That day I cried to the Potter,
"From Your wheel please set me free."
I was traded and sold so many times,
filled with every imaginable thing;
Finally discarded as broken & useless,
No honor to the Potter did I bring.
Marred on the outside, scarred from within,
I thought of that day long before;
when the Potter's wheel stopped turning,
Would I feel His hands no more?"
Then suddenly I felt myself lifted,
from out of the refuse pile;
By hands that were somehow familiar,
Hands accustomed to handling the fragile.
It was the Potter who'd made me,
How had He known I was here?
With love & compassion He held me,
As though I was somehow dear.
"How did You find me?", I questioned,
"And, why would You want me now?
I have brought You no honor,
It seems that I just don't know how."
"You've always belonged to me," He said,
"For in you is part of me;
Remember that day you felt my tears
when you thought you should be free?"
"Those tears were shed because I knew,
the suff'ring you would endure;
because you're an incomplete vessel,
Only molding will make you secure."
"Tho' I wouldn't go against your will,
I knew you'd be willing one day;
to be the vessel I can use,
Here, let me show you the the way."
"You're just the kind of vessel now,
who will fit into my plan;
One the world thinks is useless,
for they simply don't understand."
"I always take the foolish things,
to confound the very wise;
And the vessel thought to be weakest,
I see through much different eyes."
"Don't be afraid of my potter's wheel,
This time it won't seem too long;
before you're that vessel you desired
to be, useful, loving and strong."
Oh~how patient the Potter's hands,
as He gently turns the wheel;
And, strangely it's not so painful now,
His chisel I hardly feel.
One thing is even more strange to me,
it baffles my own mind so;
The only place that needs no repair,
Are where His tears touch'd so long ago.