Yet, O LORD, You are our Father; We are the clay, and You our Potter, And we all are the work of Your hand.

But now, O LORD, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.

Still, GOD, you are our Father. We’re the clay and you’re our potter: All of us are what you made us. Don’t be too angry with us, O GOD. Don’t keep a permanent account of wrongdoing. Keep in mind, please, we are your people—all of us. Your holy cities are all ghost towns: Zion’s a ghost town, Jerusalem’s a field of weeds. Our holy and beautiful Temple, which our ancestors filled with your praises, Was burned down by fire, all our lovely parks and gardens in ruins. In the face of all this, are you going to sit there unmoved, GOD? Aren’t you going to say something? Haven’t you made us miserable long enough?

But now, O LORD, You are our Father, We are the clay, and You our potter; And all of us are the work of Your hand.

And yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are the potter. We all are formed by your hand.

But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.

But LORD, you are our father. We are like clay, and you are the potter; your hands made us all.

But now, O Jehovah, thou art our Father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.

Yet you, LORD, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.

But now, O LORD, You are our Father; We are the clay, and You our potter; And all we are the work of Your hand.