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