TREASURES IN JARS OF CLAY
 
All potteries that men shape
May in flaw the critic’s eye escape
Till the Potter Himself is found
And the ugliness stares to astound.
 
Those that neither run nor hide
But in His Hands humbly abide
To let Him break and work anew
Yielding and contrite in His view.
 
Till the Master finds them ‘good’ –
Having endured and trials withstood,
To bear the priceless treasures of heaven,
Jars of clay, the vessels earthen!
 
^&^&^&^&^&^