His Hands
They were a carpenter's hands, calloused, yet so soothing,
Freely offered to those whose burdens needed smoothing.
He forsook the carpentry trade, His Father's will to keep,
And clasped a shepherd's crook to tend His precious sheep.
His hands blessed the children when others turned them aside.
His hands calmed the stormy seas causing them to subside.
His hands touched Peter's mother-in-law, her fever disappeared.
At Cana His hands blessed the water, miraculously wine appeared!
His gentle hands healed the lame and they were made to walk.
His tender hands caused the deaf to hear and the mute to talk.
His folded hands blessed some fish and several loaves of bread,
To multiply this simple fare for the thousands to be fed!
His hands reached down to rescue Peter from the roiling sea.
Healing hands caressed their eyes. Behold! The blind could see!
His hands touched outcast lepers, their diseases He erased.
His hands upset thieves' tables when His temple was debased.
Alas, His loving, compassionate hands were nailed to a tree.
There He suffered and died for wayward sinners such as we.
He yet offers steadfast hands to guide us o'er perilous strands.
His invitation is everlasting - we need only to grasp His hands.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2010
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