His Own Hands
He watches the sparrow as it glides
In the brightest morning sky
He counts the times it's wings unfold
As He sees His creation fly
He whispers and the wind blows
As it moves the autumn leaves
He smiles and the waves arise
All across the mighty seas
He speaks to all the flowers
As they strain to reach His Voice
Even the mighty oak tree
Lifts his branches to rejoice
All of nature listens
To the Father as He commands
But He molded us in His own Image
With the Love in His own Hands
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