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Poem

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

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