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The Potter's Clay

by Deborah Smith Plemmons

I was but a lump of shapeless clay,
Until I was touched by the Potter one day.
With His hands, He started molding me
Into what He would have me to be.

I did not resist His gentle touch,
Though I thought I'd not amount to much.
He smoothed rough edges, getting rid of self.
I really didn't want to sit on a shelf.

He fashioned me after His own image.
I remained pliable to avoid any damage.
Thank you, God, for not giving up on me.
I pray I'll be all you want me to be.

God is the Potter and I am the clay.
He molded me into what I am today.
I feel now I'm a vessel fit for His use;
A vessel of honor to share His truths.

Please contact Deborah Smith Plemmons at "" to request permission to use this poem.