The Hands - Marion Donaldson

The Hands that shaped the flaming spheres
and sent them spinning, vast light-years
away from Planet Earth,
have laid aside the Robes of State,
donned human likeness by the great
indignity of birth.

The Hands responsive to Love's plan
that formed the God-reflector, man,
of dust and destiny,
outstretched - by man's fierce hate impaled -
wrought life anew, Love's Plan unveiled,
upon Golgotha's tree.

The Hands that found it nothing strange
to pucker up a mountain range
or ladle out a sea,
that balance Nature's systems still
and shape all History to His will,
hold, and are moulding ME



Not until each loom is silent, and the shuttles cease to fly,

Will God unroll the pattern, and explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as useful, in the Weaver's skillful Hands,

As those of gold and silver, for the pattern He has planned.



Thanks! Come again soon.....

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