Plea for the Potter
You O Lord are our Father,
Just as Christ is our Brother;
To worship you we are unfit,
Not worthy what we inherit.
Since we are nothing but clay,
Your hands are guiding the way;
With your hands able to hold,
Like the potter takes us to mold.
But our sins are just filthy rags,
Passing a thorny bush it snags;
That is corrupting us inside,
Restricting our ability to abide.
As withering leaves in the fall,
From sins causing us to enthrall;
Enticing us to make us stray,
As storm winds sweeping us away.
O Lord, help us to make amends,
Away from all these sinful trends;
Forgive us of this foul iniquity,
So we can join you in eternity.
Richard Newton Sherrer
Copyright ©2007 Richard Newton Sherrer
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Plea for the Potter
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