His hands were soft and gentle hands
I watched them as they play,
And as he grew I saw the things
He made with them each day.

He learned to use them carefully
While building things of wood
And as he learned his Father's will
He used them both for good.

Then later as he ministered,
He raised his gentle palm
And as he uttered, Peace be still
The raging sea was calm.

Oh how those gentle hands had strength
To calm the angry sea.
Yet as he touched the blinded eyes
The eyes were made to see.

Those mighty and yet humble hands
Would bless all they would touch.
And as he broke the bread that day,
He taught us, oh so much.

And then these hands, so full of love
He sacrificed for me.
He let his hands be nailed to
A cross so painfully.

And there they held his dying form
Supporting more than he.
He held the whole world in his hands
For all the world to see.

Then later in his risen form
Those marks were left to see,
That he was truly Jesus Christ
Who died for you and me.

I am so grateful for those hands
That hold the world with love.
They are my Lord and Savior's hands
My Brother up above.

© James O'Brien
May 2002