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The Hands of Christ
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


    The hands of Christ

He made the great He made the least

From nought, He made the land

God holds mankind, each bird and beast

Within His mighty hand


As mysteries of The Lamb unfold

Each great true wondrous deed

To all on earth the facts are told

About The Father’s Seed


The truth about the hands they nailed

The Christ who rose on high

Innocent hands on wood impaled

To save both you and I


Those self same hands make mountains low

Bring giants to their knees

More strong than the greatest foe

More gentle than a breeze


Before God’s Lamb was brought to birth

Or man was ever planned

The universe and all on earth

Were formed by Jesus’ hand


He stopped the mighty river’s flow

Parted the deep red sea

Creates a fragile flake of snow

A God loved child like me


With touch so soft, like blind read Braille

He heals one’s heart and soul

His nail pierced hand can never fail

To meet His every goal


Yet still most fail and build in doubt

Houses on shifting sands

Wake up and see what God’s about

Today; with those same hands..…

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Submitted: Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Last Updated: Thursday, March 13, 2014

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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