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Hands
 


As I stood today, and looked upon
a portrait large and still
The hands that were painted there
So life like, that I could almost feel

Their loving touch, their gentle stroke
upon my fevered brow
Ageless hands, that never did no wrong
Precious even now

At first I thought, the hands of Jesus
they must surely be
But when I looked closer
No scars could I see

I questioned in my mind
where did they drive the nails
whereby he was hung that day
alone small and frail

I know they don't belong to Jesus
because he died for me
He gave his life, so long ago
So I could be set free

And as I looked again, I realized
that it was God's great hands I saw
Hands that created Heaven and Earth
and wrote the commandments into law

Verse after verse ran through my mind
of scriptures and songs of old
Then thoughts sprung up from deep within
and seemed to fill my soul

Oh Lord you see my sister dear
with hands, diseased and bent
You know the pain she suffers Lord
the sleepless nights she's spent

I know you love her dearly Lord
and though I don't understand
Help me to pray for her, with faith
And to place it all, Dear God within your loving hands

By Mario William Vitale

© 2017 Mario William Vitale (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Listen to your/my heart. (challenge has been closed)


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