INTERNET BIBLE STUDIES      Devotionals and Poems

Her Baby's Tiny Hands        This wonderful poem was sent in by my Aunt Louise Morgan.
-By Joyce Folsom Johnson

While pregnant with her son
Beneath her heart within,
She'd often feel his hands
Moving inside her skin.

He'd stretch his arm and hand
And push out on her side
She'd lovingly push it back
With a smile so sweet and wide.

She could hardly wait
For his upcoming birth
To touch his tiny hands
And welcome him to earth.

Then it finally came,
The night that he was born.
With joy she couldn't contain,
She held him until morn.

She explored his tiny fingers.
She counted all his toes.
She wanted to get to know him,
His ears, his cheeks, his nose.

The wonder of it all,
At this new baby boy!
She could not hold back.
She wept with tears of joy.

She touched his tiny hand,
A miniature of her own.
He squeezed it tight on her finger.
Such joy she had never known!

The time passed and he grew.
As a toddler, it was grand
To walk along and hold
His fleshy little hand.

She taught him many things.
Together they spent hours.
She'd take his little hand
And touch it to a flower.

When she would hold him close,
He soon developed the knack
Of hugging her 'round the neck,
His tiny hand patting her back.

As her son grew older,
His young hands also grew.
He learned many ways to use them.
Each day brought something new.

She helped him learn to read.
She helped him learn to write.
Then, as the day was ending,
She'd pray with him at night.

He learned to use a hammer
With which to drive a nail.
He'd sometimes strike his finger
And let out quite a wail!

Her son continued growing
And soon became a man.
She loved him just as much
As when his life began.

His hands were now full grown,
So strong, yet tender, when
He, with deep compassion,
Comforted a friend.

She was extremely grateful
When his hands would fold;
And bowing his head in prayer,
To his Father in Heaven he'd hold.

As the years flew swiftly by,
She watched her son with pride,
His strong but gentle arms
And hands there at his side.

She then thought her life was over.
She suffered unspeakable loss
When her son's beloved hands
Were nailed to a wooden cross...

But that was just the beginning.
For he died and rose again.
Her sorrow then was ended,
And joy replaced her pain.

For, you see, her son was Jesus,
God coming to earth as man,
To save us from our sins
According to His plan.

We cannot save ourselves.
Our sins would lead to death.
God put our sins on Jesus,
The perfect and the best.

With this came our forgiveness
If we believe in Him
And ask Him into our hearts,
He'll take away our sins.

As He was resurrected,
Eternal Life He'll bring
To all who have faith and believe
And to His hand will cling.

At the Foot of the Cross

By Marcia Krugh Leaser

Fearing the battle was over
and I'd already lost the war,
I was tired of trying and failing.
I just couldn't fight anymore.

So, dragging my battle-scarred body,
I crawled to the foot of the cross.
And I sobbed. "Oh please, Father forgive me.
But I tried...I tried.. and still lost."

Then the air grew silent around me.
I heard his voice just as clear as the dawn:
"Oh, My child, though you are tired and weary,
you can't stop, you have to go on."

At the foot of the Cross , where I met Him,
At the foot of the Cross, where He died,
I felt love, as I knelt in His presence .
I felt hope, as I looked in His eyes.

Then He gathered me lovingly to Him,
as around us God's light clearly shone.
And together we walked though my lifetime
to heal every wound I had known.

I found bits of my dreams, long forgotten ,
and pieces of my life on the floor.
But I watched as He tenderly blessed them,
and my life was worth living once more.

I knew then why I had been losing.
I knew why I had not grown.
At the foot of the Cross came the answer:
I'd been fighting the battle alone .

At the foot of the Cross, where I met Him,
At the foot of the Cross, where He died,
Then I knew I could face any challenge
together--just my Lord and I.