In Jesus’ hands, two fish and loaves
Became enough to feed the droves.
He welcomed need and always will,
For by his hands we have our fill.
In Jesus’ hands, the sick were healed
And Satan’s horde could only yield.
The lame could walk and blind could see
Just think what He could do in me.
In Jesus’ hands, the simple folk
Became the ones through which he spoke;
Mere fishermen then preached the word,
When Holy Spirit fire stirred.
In Jesus’ hands, a crowd of lost
Became a church on Pentecost,
And then were sent when stones were hurled
To take good news throughout the world.
In Jesus’ hands, the gifts I bring
Are blessed when given to my king.
I know my effort isn’t much
But little blossoms with his touch.
In Jesus’ hands, the lost find hope
And find in Him the strength to cope.
His hands will reach what we can’t touch
And in our hearts will do so much.
In Jesus’ hands, I find my rest
Where I can see his wisdom best;
Surrendered to his will and plans,
I place my all in Jesus’ hands.
This poem was a finalist in the July 2017 poetry contest