THE lORD REMINDED ME OF THE POEM HE GAVE TO ME LONG AGO,,HERE IS A COPY,

Potter and the Clay

In a dark pit of mire, lay a big lump of clay
Buried in slimy bier. seems to accept it's stay
A potter reaches inside, for a lump one day
grout mix began to slide, as in hands it lay

There shapeless heap, lays on a potter's wheel
I think you I will keep I know by how you feel
first to clean and mold you into a goblet.rare
The lump sat very bold, the potter spun it there

He molds in his wet hands,off comes your dross
In work the potter stands thinking of Hiscost
On wheel of stone begins there slowly to yield
impurities now gone bends to the Master's will

A grain of hard sand( as a knot catching a curl)
removed by potters hand, causes uneven swirl
More grains removed, ere' maks a circle-band
by the potter, smoothed, touch of sensitive hand

Cuts with a wet string ..frees the goblet's base
what joy you shall bring laughs a potter's face
truly one of a kind, soon comes your hot baking
rest so you can bind (he;s amazed at his making)

Fire of different heats a surface white as snow
a teary-glaze now creeps, A unique goblet a-glow
A knock heard by the clod said "God come and stay."
The potter MY Father God. I jenny wren, that clay.
========================