I took a piece of plastic clay

And idly fashioned it one day,

And as my fingers pressed it, still

It moved and yielded to my will.

I came again when days went past:

The bit of clay was hard at last.

The form I gave it still it bore.

But I could change that form no more!

I took a piece of living clay,

And gently pressed it day by day,

And molded with my power and art

A young child’s soft and yielding heart.

I came again when years were gone:

It was a man I looked upon.

He still that early impress bore,

And I could fashion him no more.

Author Unknown

Recommended Resources

Golden Thoughts of Mother, Home & Heaven
Verses of Virtue
Daughters of Destiny
The Christian Family: Home-Making

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