The Hands Of Jesus
Little hands lie in the manger, flailing in the cool night air,
Reaching out to touch His mother, feeling love and tender care.
Junior hands within the workshop, Joseph teaching Him his trade,
I imagine happy moments showing Mary what He’d made.
Hands that held the words of Scripture, in the temple as a lad,
Telling scholars things of glory; knowledge that they’d never had.
Hands that gave a blind man vision to behold the world anew,
Hands that touched a leper’s body, cleansed and healed him through and through.
Hands that held the little children, cuddling them upon His knee,
Telling weary, toil worn mothers, “Let your offspring come to Me.”
Hands that took a cup of water from the woman at the well,
Told her that He knew her heartache, things that she would never tell.
Hands that baked the fish for breakfast on the seashore for His men,
Hands that blessed the food he offered, bringing God His thanks again.
Hands that whipped the money changers in a temple meant for praise
When He saw the degradation and the anger that did raise.
Yet these hands were gentle, loving, kind, compassionate but strong,
Lifting up the broken-hearted, guiding lives that had gone wrong.
These very hands have been rejected, humbled by a rugged cross;
Nails that made His blood run freely; heaven’s gain, but man’s great loss.
But these hands are still extended, reaching out to draw us in,
Oh, the loving hands of Jesus, paid the penalty for sin.
By Greta Zwaan
Reflect and pray today and this week focusing on the Hands of Jesus.
MORNINGS ARE BETTER WHEN YOU TALK TO JESUS FIRST!!
