My Savior's H a n d s

Tiny hands, sent from heaven above
Coming to redeem me with your gift of love
Growing hands, clapping with delight,
Learning family love, obeying day and night.
Praying hands, worshiping one Lord,
Wise among the elders, honoring God's Word.

 Inviting hands, calling twelve to you,
Showing them your Father, hoping they stay true .
Healing hands, mending weary souls,
Touching broken bodies, making sinners whole.
Searching hands, reaching to the lost,
Seeking to redeem them at any cost.

Bleeding hands, 'neath a heavy load,
Gripping splintered beam on that winding road.
Hated hands, rejected and despised,
Lifted up for mercy as alone you cried.
Helpless hands, surrendered to the cross,
Man's only hope suspended in final, tragic loss.

Then you shouted: “I T   I S   F I N I S H E D !”

Silent hands, buried in a tomb,
Waiting for the morning, shrouded in the gloom.
Living hands, forever scarred by love,
Lifting my petitions to mighty God above.
Open hands, still waiting to receive
Each repentant sinner who in faith believes.

“I AM THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE,
             HE WHO COMES TO ME
        I WILL IN NO WAY CAST OUT.”