A Pot Of Clay

As God looked down from Heaven one day,
He saw an old pot, it was made of clay.
Dirty and broken it lay there on the ground,
Worthless and ugly, it was kicked around.

Oh, it was so useless, fit for destruction,
Worn and ragged, a horrible obstruction.
Yet laying there, it seemed to catch God's eye,
For He didn't see it as just an ugly sty.
Reaching down He picked up that old pot,

He just couldn't let it lay there and rot.
Slowly He wiped away all the dirt and dust,
Gently He washed away years of earthly rust.
He patched it carefully, filling up each hole,

Making that pot as one, yes, completely whole.
He patched and filled each and every groove,
Then He sanded it until it felt smooth.
He painted with ease, every little detail,

Then He made it shine,
He loved it, you could tell.
He worked so hard on this pot made of clay,
For He saw in it such beauty to display.

This pot I speak of, well, it's really me,
Created by God, His child at His knee.
Created to show that His love knows no bounds,
To tell of His grace, which surely abounds.

Now you may be thinking, you're a dirty pot,
But I want to tell you that you're really not.
God will take and bring out beauty in you,
Know that You are always a 'Special' pot of His.

'We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not of us.' - 2 Cor 4:7