His Gifted Hands
There is a common thread,
sewn into the fabric of our life,
It's one of human caring, a love,
and comes in a sharing of our strife.
As a seamstress sews her pattern,
on a beautiful quilt, to behold,
These special moments can be seen,
before us, we then unfold.
As a potter on the wheel, he does throw,
the earthen clay, so fine,
The story told by all his works,
so reveals the purity of his mind.
With caring hands it takes its shape,
every special piece, each one,
Then to be placed in an oven,
and baked, as from a warming sun.
As a weaver weaves the strands of his work,
by the loom he toils.
Precisely placed within each strand,
the perfection, without spoils.
A balanced pattern is so then made,
and a delight for eyes to see.
Our very being in a likeness formed,
and such a gift for all to be.
The artist paints upon his slate,
on a canvas, portrays the world,
In strokes he spreads with a cautious brush,
a finish we will herald.
The colors create a sense of strength,
a likeness he does convey,
Not to matter in width or length,
for it's his message, that he will portray.
As a writer puts words upon a page,
so our lives are in a truthful line,
No author can but ever invite, as drama,
or in a script, that is so kind.
Written language portrays our feelings,
so as the Creator does know,
Every book that is written, on all the shelves,
our mirrors, all will show.
His gifted hands, so loving are they,
in all that he gives, in His touch,
Such an intelligence beyond belief,
and to Him, we all do mean so much.
The greatest artist of all time,
all the writers and creatures, on this earth,
Could never make, perform, or create,
our likeness, by our God, in its worth.
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