In the potter's house, there is a craftsman at the wheel
In his hands, a lump of dull clay made into a vessel
Perfect and pure, fit for His purpose
Filled with living water
Yet, the lies of the world spoiled the vessel
Broken and shattered into pieces
Be still, I hear the potter say
Lifting every piece of clay
Gently making it whole again
I'm in the potter's hands
You are the potter and I'm the clay
Your thoughts are higher
Higher than my thoughts
Let this vessel be perfected in your image
Constantly making, molding and shaping me
Put through fire without burning me
Let your will be done in my life
I'm in the potter's hands
You are the potter and I'm the clay
Your thoughts are higher
Higher than my thoughts
I'm in the potter's hands
You are the potter and I'm the clay
Your thoughts are higher
Higher than my thoughts
