Hands

One rusty nail once pierced my hand Salt, blood, pain, I could not bear The cost, playing brave yet lost; Klim and sugar my hands did steal I was a thief not waiting for my meal. My hands once penned god-awful words Pointing to one I traced, one still of worth. My hands have labored like a giant Cloaked in child's clothing; I could not say I can't. My hands have held new life I've borne as friend Lord knows, I needed caring hands, and then I crossed bridges, ocean waters; my flight came to an end. My hands have tried reaching up They've been misled, held by hands filling their own cup. My hands I've clasped in prayer during rain I've strayed, and played, could speak of mighty pain But my hands weren't tied, never chained. Mine were the hands taking a stand with willing feet When on a snowy morning, the Savior I did meet. He appeared as blessings in disguise His smile seemed warm; something clouded my eyes Until His invisible touch reshaped my mind's eyes. He told me His hands were pierced, and as He bled He humbly bowed, and bled, and died in my stead; So that I could live anew, and share what my Savior did do. Now, these hands won't hesitate to pen... He still holds my hand as dearest of friend. *