If we could see the hand that cups
The way we walk, our fears would fade
If we upon our shoulder touched
The Touch of He whose Hand is stayed
If we with naked eye could trace
The Presence of Essence we trust
How holy-wholly we'd embrace
The nail scarred hands that hold our dust
If for one breath, faith would allow
A glimpse of mercy’s Majesty
Then we, without a doubt would bow
Beneath the hand we cannot see
© Janet Martin
My times are in Your hand; Psalm 31:15
My times are in Your hand; Psalm 31:15
Truth be told
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