Carefully selected and formed by hand; Mud is artless, like the dust of the land
Given to a Master, a form begins; Sculpted to be a most perfect end
Pounded and kneaded as the shaping begins; A masterpiece will take place as the potter wheel spins
Faster and faster the wheel does turn; Life as we know it has just begun
The Master places his hands on the lump; Gently pressing inward and lifting it up
Shapes and the curves come into being; The Master is carefully planning and seeing
Caring for His toil and following through; The piece is an original, one of a kind, too
The purpose of the piece it may not know; The Master is certain and it does show
Part of the route is to smooth and mold; Sometimes it is rough still the Master has control
The piece sits in the kiln through the night; Knowing not what to expect at daylight
This simple lump of clay which will started so cheap; is me and you and we are Gods masterpiece
Now bumps in the road will strike us square in the face; Well yell and scream, howd we get in place?
Frustrated and hurt we cant understand; That things will work out its the Masters Plan
Troubles will come and troubles will go; Please always remember our Master is in control
