⁸ 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.

⁹ Woe unto him that striveth with his Maker! Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth. Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou? or thy work, He hath no hands?