Because God made me from the dust,
with water mixed -- a pinch of lust;
a vessel formed and made from clay,
I'm fashioned -- shaped, to look this way.

You may not like the way I'm made-
-- then tell the Lord my clothing's frayed;
but He may say "there's no mistake,
and even though when old he'll break,
he's mine you see...for Jesus' sake."

Yes, I can't help the way I'm shaped,
I'm still unique, the way I'm draped;
I'm moulded by the potter's hand-
to one day walk in Canaan's land.