Yours was the hand that broke the bread
that fed the five thousand,
yours was the hand
that handed the sop to the betrayer
knowing what it meant,
Yours was the hand that wrote in the dust
listening as the stones fell,
yours was the hand that reached out
a lover's touch,
waiting for the nail to fall.
Yours was the hand
that opened the blind eye,
Yours was the hand
offered to Thomas,
in joyful proof of the mercy of God.
O Lord,
Yours is the hand of mercy
your touch is life.
Amen
Beautiful poem this morning. Thank You, Knitting.
Lovely. Higher thoughts.