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.