In Abba’s Hands

I am not what you need me to be.
I am not what you want me to be.
I am what my Heavenly Father made me to be,
And I have not yet become all He’s called me to be.

I am clay in His Hand,
But you cannot choose how He molds me.
My earthen vessel will bear His treasure.
It won’t matter if you see a trashy masquerade.

Sometimes I feel the pressure will break me,
But He knows how to make a wretch a jewel.
Even if you blind yourself to the sparkle,
I can still reflect His Light and Life.

Looks will fade.
My faithless heart can deceive.
May my Father’s praise inspire righteous fear.
May my works speak my Father’s name everywhere I go.