Gospel

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The potter makes what he wishes with the clay
The clay has to yield or be moulded astray
Woe to him says the great prophet
That strives with his Maker
Let the potsherd strive with the potsherd of the earth
Shall the clay say to the potter, what do you make?
Yet we ask our creator this question day by day

He demands all attention
We ask for recognition
He gives us in secret all we ask
We take the praise in open without a mask
Oh! What a father; loving his children ever
He sent his only begotten Son for us, to die at Golgotha
Yet we are daily farther from adoring him whenever

It’s a struggle for recognition
Between the potter and the clay
The end however is always destruction
Of the clay day by day
Stop the struggle for recognition!
Stop the COMBAT FOR GLORY!
Channel all honour to the maker!
GOD!!!

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