1 Behold the potter and the clay, He forms his vessels as he please: Such is our God, and such are we, The subjects of his high decrees.
2 [Doth not the workman's power extend O'er all the mass, which part to choose, And mould it for a nobler end, And which to leave for viler use?]
3 May not the sovereign Lord on high Dispense his favours as he will, Choose some to life while others die, And yet be just and gracious still?
4 [What if to make his terror known He lets his patience long endure, Suffering vile rebels to go on And seal their own destruction sure!
5 What if he means to shew his grace, And his electing love employs To mark out some of mortal race, And form them fit for heavenly joys!]
6 Shall man reply against the Lord, And call his Maker's ways unjust, The thunder of whose dreadful word Can crush a thousand worlds to dust?
7 But, O my soul, if truths so bright Should dazzle and confound thy sight Yet still his written will obey, And wait the great decisive day.
8 Then shall he make his justice known, And the whole world before his throne With joy or terror shall confess The glory of his righteousness.