I am thy clay
Thou wouldst not have thy man crushed back to clay;
It must be, God, thou hast a strength to give
To him that fain would do what thou dost say;
Else how shall any soul repentant live,
Old griefs and new fears hurrying on dismay?
Let pain be what thou wilt, kind and degree,
Only in pain calm thou my heart with thee.
you form thy inner parts with honour,
mould thy heart within me.
thy potter, intimate are you in your ways;
to make sight for thee to see,
your love infused in your beloved clay.
thy potter guides thee and shapeth carefully.
so thy clay would be a pot that sings joyfully.