The Hands that made the world
And gave the sun and moon their light
Are the Tiny Hands of a baby
Born one cold December night.
The hands that stilled the wind
And tamed the fury of the sea
Are the calloused hands of a carpenter
Who lived in poverty.
The Hands that held the power
To break the binding chains of sin
Are the gentle Hands that washed the feet
Of tired and dusty men.
The Hands that cleansed the leper
Healed the blind and raised the dead
Are the praying Hands of one who cried,
“Not my will, but Thine instead.”
The Hands that shaped the universe
And flung the stars in space
Are the nail-pierced hands of a dying man
Who suffered in our place.
The Hands of our Creator,
Lord and King of heaven above,
Are the Savior’s hands, forever
Reaching out to us with love.
— B.J Hoff
