In The Hollow Of His Hands

Lord I know I am small in everyone else’s eyes.
I’m not rich and I’m not famous in the eyes of this world.
But Lord I’m proud to be just one of Your children.
Just an old fashioned Christian girl.

My face is getting old Lord and I can’t cover these wrinkles deep.
My hands can’t work like they used to do.
These two feet have run many a mile up and down many a creek.
But Lord I reckon You know my heart is still true.

These two eyes can’t see good enough to read much anymore.
The hair on my head that once was black as the night
Well Lord You can see it has turned almost cotton white.
These old bones You gave me Lord are getting awful sore.

These two eyes can’t see too well now You know and I have to be led.
My knees don’t bend like they did when I was marching in the bands.
I reckon the only time they bend is when I’m a kneeling by my bed.
But you know Lord, this soul of mine is still kept safe in the hollow of Your hands!

Written by Sybil Shearin
All Rights Reserved

This entry was posted on 270433H Jan 2011 and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.

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