I put my hand in Jesus' hand
It felt so rough and worn.
The scar from the nail
His precious flesh had torn.
The years of carpenter work
Had made his hand quite hard.
So odd to think that God's own Son
Would have his hand so marred.
I had been so anxious.
Then we met one day.
He held my hand and gave a squeeze.
It meant more than words could say.
Thus we walked together
Along life’s winding path.
Fear and doubt has gone away.
With him my soul can laugh.
For I the LORD your God
Will hold your right hand,
Saying unto you,
Fear not; I will help you.
Isaiah 41:13
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