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 Pow'r extend
O'er all the Mass, which Part to choose,
And mould it for nobler End,
And which to leave for viler Use?]

3 May not the Sov'reign 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,
Suff'ring vile Rebels to go on,
And seal their own Destruction sure?

5 What if he means to show his Grace,
And his electing Love employs
To mark out some of mortal Race,
And form them fit for heav'nly 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 Truth 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.