A jar of clay I am on the table,
old, broken, and nearly shattered.
Nothing in myself admirable;
Worthy not for any glance rendered.
How ever did I become so obsolete?
What made me so despicable?
It is the weight I carried when able
The sinful discord of my heartbeat.
What if I break, does anyone care?
What if I shatter will anyone know?
So I thought, but did not fair
for the truth was, I was already held
I was held by the one who holds all things together
I will not break, nor will I shatter.
My ugliness is true, I’m fragile forever
That makes the treasure in me, greater.
How I am adorned, it does not matter
It is not me any eyes should flatter
For the treasure in me is far more beautiful
than the best myself could portray truthful.
I have been given this treasure
in a jar of clay, old and broken
I did not deserve this yet without measure,
So priceless, granted to me as a token.
Through the lines of brokenness
Shines forth the light of the treasure
Many eyes passing by the table glanced
And was captivated to treasure this treasure.