These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Molded in His Hands

He knits our days, these threads of life,
to make us what we ought to be.
The dangers that we face are rife,
until our final Home we see.

As clay upon the potter's wheel,
we feel the crush of molding Hands.
Our hopes to be with Him are real,
but wait we must on His best plans.

The threads of age from silver pate
adorn the floor where'er we walk.
Yet, growing old is truly great
when silver shows in wisdom's talk.

When days are through in pieces laid
the vase of craftsman's royal hue.
The spirit flies to Him as bade.
The days of life are lasting new.

A moment yawns. The threads and clay
of different pieces, lifetime's craft
now gone from sight to lasting Day.
This side now mourns. The other laughs.

by Jay O’Toole
on September 11th, 2025