Twisting, folding, slapping, scolding,

Pounding with his hands,

Every hardness softened, every weakness pressed,

Feeling, minding, pressing,

Finding the offending grain of sand,

Slipping through His fingers the moistened clay is dressed.

He must know its every facet feeling every part,

Lest the shaping vessel be ruined from the start.

With His insistent pressing, the precious clay is blessed.

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About David Young

For nearly 50 years I have regularly written poems, plays, articles and devotionals for various publications. I have written 6 books. I have terminal cancer. God as granted me much more time than the doctors' expected. Every day is a blessing.
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