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The Master's Hand
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


The Master's Hand


Tubes in the throat tubes in the wrist

Tubes in stomach and nose

Yet born of God I could resist

The devil’s taunting blows


Although his jaws were gaping wide

Though death’s cold hands drew near

Trusting The Light that reigns inside

I saw no need to fear


I felt God’s warmth His loving care

His arm His mighty hand

The faithfulness He has to share

The Truth to understand


My time is in The Master’s keep

My faith has made me wise

Though others found it hard to sleep

In peace I’d close my eyes


Salvation’s Word is ever real

God’s Promise always true

Regardless what our bodies feel

Or what physicians do


Though darkness would my soul distraught

Would have my flesh to die

Yet Heaven’s arms are never short

God’s hand is ever nigh


My God my Friend, Saviour supreme

Seeing His servant’s tears

Rebuked the tide, the raging stream

And stilled my loved one’s fears


However hard our great ordeal

However deep the pain

Thus tighter grows our Father’s Seal

And darkness fights in vain..... 

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Submitted: Saturday, September 3, 2016

Last Updated: Saturday, September 3, 2016

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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