Molding a Masterpiece

Lamentations 4:2 The precious sons of Zion, comparable to fine gold, how are they esteemed as earthen pitchers, the work of the hands of the potter!

Master Potter, why do You labor all day,
Giving such effort to rough, worthless pieces of clay?

Why such feeling in Your hands?

Why such care in every touch?

Why all the struggle?

Your creation is nothing but dust.

I’m molding a masterpiece, a work of great beauty.

I’m molding a masterpiece, My labors not done.

A trophy, a treasure of worth beyond measure-

I’ molding a masterpiece, a masterpiece of love.