God's Hands
By W. T. Weatherly

   God's voice sings sweet and clear
   As it calls each day to awake.
   It is a song of creation and recreation.
   A song that gives life and breath
   To all that dance within its measure.

        God's eyes are knowing eyes
        That penetrate to the heart of things.
        He sees the darkest soul and the strongest fort
        And the blink of his eye brings death, or life.

   God's hands are callused hands.
   There is dirt beneath his nails.
   He reaches down
   And scoopes up pain, and hurt
   And all the troubles of the world.

             God's knees are strong knees
             That work hard every day
             Because he stoops and bends,
             Kneels and lifts so often.

   God's heart is a loving heart
   That beats the rhythm of the universe.
   His breath is the wind in the sailor's sails
   And his song, the stars in the night.
   His thoughts are the very laws of physics.
   And his arms are a mother's arms at night.

                  God's hands are bloody hands.
                  Not with the blood of vengeance,
                  Nor with the violence that we do.
                  The blood on God's hands is his own
                  From the nails that were driven there.

© 1998 W. T. Weatherly