Monday, January 31, 2011

The Hand

The hand that makes the rivers run,
that made the mountains tall,
the hand that calmed the mighty storm,
and formed, from clay, us all.

The voice commands the heavens above
and shakes the earth below,
the voice that whispers guiding words
for you alone to know.

The feet that walked for 30 years
upon this broken Earth,
the feet that were nailed to the cross
to show our matchless worth.

The eyes that saw the sin of man
when man had not been born,
the eyes that saw his only son
beaten, rejected, torn.

The heart that loves a father's love
wholly unconditionally,
the heart that breaks for the lost
and hurts for our iniquity.

The one that died and gave his life
to break the wrong of man's design,
the one that has a plan for me
and his hand in mine.