4.05.2017

The Potter's Scars

In the Potter's house, the clay
Is upon a turning wheel,
Whether moving slow or swiftly,
All is at the Potter's will.
As it goes, the clay is pressed
Into the Potter's hand,
There He forms a vessel
According to His plan.
Yet, sometimes within the clay
There are hidden little stones,
And as the clay is formed,
Those stones are then made known.

And the Potter's hands are smooth,
For upon the vessel made
The fingerprints of the Potter
Are left upon the clay,
And in place of His fingerprints
Are scars placed by the stones
Hidden in the heart of the clay,
But to the Potter's hands were known.

Lord, when the wheel of life is turning
And I'm pressed into Your hands,
You gently work to mold me
According to Your plan.
Yet, sometimes there lay within me
Little sins like hidden stones,
And as my clay is fashioned 
Those stones are then made known.
Still You work to mold and make me,
Notwithstanding who I am,
Knowing that those hidden sins
Are the stones that scarred Your hands.

And the Potter's hands are smooth,
For upon the vessel made
The fingerprints of the Potter
Are left upon the clay,
And in place of His fingerprints
Are scars placed by the stones 
Hidden in the heart of the clay,
But to the Potter's hands were known.

I see the scars,
I thrust my hand into His side,
I see the tears
That He shed to make me right, 
I see the Cross
On which He died to remove all my dross,
I see the print of my sins
On my Blessed Savior's hands.

And in place of His fingerprints
Are scars placed by the stones
Hidden in the heart of the clay,
But to the Potter's hands were known.

Copyright © Elisabeth Radfar 2017

Who Am I

A vessel marred, crushed by sin;
A broken heart, scarred within;
A soul that lost all hope to win,
But God of all mercy reached down,
Touched my life and made me whole,
Cleansed my heart, restored my soul,
Took me as His very Own;
In wonder and praise I bow--

Who am I, that You would love me?
Who am I, that You should save me?
Who am I, that You could use me
As a vessel in Your hands,
Who am I?

See the dying and the lost,
Who will tell them of the Cross?
How can I sit and count the cost,
When the fields are ripe to be won?
For those souls You shed Your blood,
Who will teach them of Your love
And point them to the God Above,
Your praise in their hearts to be sung?

Here am I, You can send me.
Here am I, You can lead me.
Here am I, You can use me
As a vessel in Your hand,
Here am I.

Now my Savior says, "All power is Mine,
Go and preach the Word divine,
Bring the poor, the sick, and lost
To find refuge at the Cross.

"And I Am He that sustains you,
I Am He that upholds you,
I Am He that will use you
As a vessel in My hand;
Go and tell the world that I Am.
Go and tell the world the I Am.
Go and tell the world that I Am."

Copyright © Elisabeth Radfar 2017

3.21.2017

Chains in Splendor

Amidst an awesome beauty,
High upon a rocky steep,
Traveled lone and weary pilgrim
Who’d left ease and comfort sweet.

Hard the sunrays beat upon her
With its penetrating heat,
Though quite weary from her toil,
Yet she did not dare retreat.

So treacherous her pathway,
Steep and narrow was her lane,
On either hand a precipice,
But centered was a chain.

Precariously she climbed
With security her gain,
Only gazing at the glory
But while clasping to the chain.

Chains upon the mountain,
Placed there by some bygone soul;
Rugged trail already trodden,
Now his story doth unfold.

Splendor of the mountains, never
Matched by earthly pride,
But it’s beauty hardly captured
Ere the trav’ler’s foot would slide.

Yet one, known by rocky dwellings,
Whose sure foot had learned the stones,
Called to mind his early wavering,
Set a guard for weaker ones.

Chain so grey and harsh to hold
Set amidst the splendorous steeps;
Doth it hinder by withholding,
Or in safety young ones keep?

Say, they cannot grasp the cliffs
While holding to the chain of steel,
How then can they fully fathom
All the depths, the heights, and thrills?

Aye, but never would they know
All the glories and the joys
Were the chain to be refused,
For they’d slip and be destroyed. 

Would you reach the other side
Of the precipice of life?
Hold unflinching to the chain
Set by Him Who paid the price.

Copyright © Elisabeth Radfar 2017