Poetry

---

These Hands

These hands are not my own
Yet they are dirty from seeds I’ve sown
Digging past the rocks where nothing will grow
Delving deeper, further into the rich soil found below

These hands are rough and scarred
From pushing into areas which are barred
Penetrating much further so the Truth can be heard
Teaching the blind that they may see the Living Word

These hands are broken and battered
The calloused skin is torn and tattered
From the battles they have fought and won
For all the lost souls saved in the name of God’s Son

These hands are Holy Spirit filled
For broken hearts to be mended and healed
A love and burden for those who wonder why
Striving for those tormented lives that desperately cry

These hands are solid and strong
It is the Christ to which they belong
Powered to lift those who have fallen down
Offered immediately to those who life tries to drown

These hands are humble and meek
Stretching out for those who are weak
Gentle hands filled with His healing touch
To reach out and hold those which He loves so much

These hands are not for my gain
But surrendered to Lord Jesus to reign
My simple hands to His control I humbly gave
His to use as tools for the souls He has come to save



Praise God! This poem has been over a month in coming. Finally the Lord has given it over to me to share. Now I pray that these hands continue to be His hands. I pray that I will continue to do His work for His glory. God bless.

A servant in Christ,
Christian


© Christian Coutts

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE