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Michael A Gibbs

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Wash Your Hands
by Michael A Gibbs

Tuesday, January 10, 2006
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We have a father and a Father.




Wash Your Hands




Who hasnít heard their fatherís call

at suppertime to children small?

ďPlease wash your hands of all youíve done,

and quickly now, the mealís begun.Ē


And too, from early on we learned

our fatherís love could not be earnedó

Accorded us through dirt and deeds,

          he gave us that which filled our needs.


And so we grew to maids and men,

          and knowing where our hands had been.

No comfort in the brightest dawnó

no parents now to help us on.


And so we seek beneath the sun

          to wash our hands of all weíve done,

But higher must we look at last

          to cleanse our souls of sin now passed.


Our Fatherís love is still as free

          as when we sat upon his knee.

Yes, wash your hands of all youíve done,

          then come and dine with Godís own Son.


                                                M. Gibbs   






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Reviewed by Joyce Hale 12/9/2006
Michael, this is an excellent write. You have spelled it out perfectly. Excellent!

*Our Fatherís love is still as free
as when we sat upon his knee.
Yes, wash your hands of all youíve done,
then come and dine with Godís own Son.*

Peace. Joyce
Reviewed by Leysa Lowery 1/11/2006
I thought this was a lovely write. A beautiful, inspiring piece.
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