ix "The Potter and the Clay." 169 



When the same power that made 



My being, has arrayed 

 Its nature with a dower of sin and woe, 



And thoughts that question all : 



Why should the words appal 

 That ask the Maker why He made it so ? 



I know we are but clay, 



Thus moulded to display 

 His wisdom and His power who rolls the years ; 



Whose wheel is Heaven and earth 



Its motion, death and birth ; 

 Is Potter, then, the name that most endears ? 



To Him we bow as King : 



As Lord His praise we sing : 

 We pray to Him as Father and as God : 



Saviour in our distress, 



Guide through the wilderness, 

 And Judge that beareth an avenging rod. 



I grudge not, Lord, to be 



Of meanest use to Thee ; 

 Make me a trough for swine, if so Thou wilt ; 



But if my vessel's clay 



Be marred and thrown away 

 Before it takes its form, is mine the guilt ? 



I trust Thee to the end, 



Creator, Saviour, Friend, 

 Whatever name Thou deignest that we call. 



Art Thou not good and just ? 



I wait and watch, and trust 

 That Love is still Thy holiest name of all. 



I watch and strive all night ; 



And when the morning's light 

 Shines on the path I travelled here below ; 



When day eternal breaks, 



And life immortal wakes, 

 Then shalt Thou tell me why Thou mad'st me so. 



