As Clay

As clay within the potter's hands,
Lord, help me to be be;
Pliant, humble, unresisting,
Yielded unto Thee;
So that Thou canst form and fashion,
In Thy perfect way,
Just the vessel that Thou needest
For Thy work today.

Shape and pattern, style or color,
Are not mine to choose;
And a place of lowly service,
I may not refuse.
Only let me know dear Father,
Thou dost guide the wheel,
And the closeness of Thy fingers,
Daily let me feel.

Then although the process lengthen,
Or unpleasant grow,
All who view the polished vessel,
Shall its Maker know.