April 11, 2007

• He Holds Her Hand

   

  He held her hand,

  And touched her head without a word.

  Who is this man?

  He was better than she had heard.

   

  Streams of forgiveness surged from his face,

  Flashes of glory cascaded in grace.

  Nail pierced hands—the hands of brutal sorrows.

  Jesus Christ bled for my tomorrows.

   

  He stirred her voice,

  And gave her powerful promises to speak.

  Who is this Truth Whisperer?

  He gives hope to the weak.

   

  Beautiful grace in an unending parade,

  Dance through my existence. I am no longer afraid.

  Though storms beat my body, His promises endure.

  He fastens my feeble feet. My legs he clasps secure.

   

  He painted her heart,

  And added deep shades of dark green.

  Who is this Artist?

  He surpasses all we have seen.

   

  White pearls drape from his throne of pure power,

  His radiance shines forth like a sodden rain shower.

  Though stones hurt my feet on this blessed kingdom trail,

  I will forever look to you, whose promises never fail.

   

  Kimberly Willingham

   

  "Don't worry about anything; instead pray about everything; tell God your needs, and don't forget to thank him for his answers."

  --Phil. 4:6 TLB

  • 2:36 pm
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