17. August 2006 · Write a comment · Categories: Poetry · Tags:

And the vessel that he made of clay was marred in the hand of the potter: so he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it. (Jer 18:4)

I observe the vessels around me
All are different, none are the same
I look at myself, I’m disheartened
“Why so many mars?” I exclaim

What use can I be to my master?
I bring no beauty or value
For what reason would He create me
I am useless although I am new

The Potter heard my desperate plea
As I gently returned to His hands
He made me into a new vessel
And molded me into His plan

I am thankful the Potter loves me
Each mar does He quickly remove
Creating vessels unto honour
Ever seeking our lives to improve

Kate Plourde
August 17, 2006

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