The Potter And The Clay
Behold, the Potter and the clay,
He forms His vessels as He’s pleased;
Such is our God and such are we
The subjects of His high decree.
Does not the Potter’s power extend
O’er all the mass, which part to choose?
And mold it for a nobler end,
And which to leave for viler use?
May not the Sovereign Lord on high
Dispense His favors as He will?
Choose some to life, while others die
And yet be just and gracious still?
What if, to make His terror known,
He lets His patience long endure,
Suffering vile rebels to go on,
And seal their own destruction sure?
Shall man reply against his Lord,
And call His Maker’s ways unjust,
The thunder, of whose dreadful word,
Can crush a thousand worlds to dust?
But O, my soul, if truths so bright
Should dazzle and confound thy sight,
Yet still His written will obey,
And wait the great decisive day.
Then shall He make His justice known,
And the whole world before His throne,
With joy or terror shall confess
The glory of His righteousness.
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