I longed to see the earthen vessel golden;
He made it clay.
Clay fragile, empty,
That all power and glory be His each day.
Take me, dear Lord, though marred;
Remake me, mold me,
The vessel Thou wouldst have me be.
God's purpose for us is to allow ourselves to be His clay; fragile and empty. As the potter molds the clay again, those swiftly moving hands are not working at random. Every touch has a purpose. They're working out a pattern.
( Parts taken from the wonderful wording of Elisabeth Elliot)
I do not know my future, but I do know the One who holds it, and in Him I place my trust.
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