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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HEAL MY HANDS!, by ANNA BUNSTON DE BARY First Line: Lord, near thy cross, as men count nearness Last Line: Heal my hands. Subject(s): Christianity; Cross, The; God; Religion; Theology | |||
LORD, near Thy cross, as men count nearness, My cross stands, And tortured like Thine own, and bleeding, Are my hands. Thine were wounded in the dwelling Of Thy friends, Yet rich blessing in their crimson Dew descends. And from Thy tree Thy hands are plucking Fruit of bliss; Mine, in life and death, are empty— All amiss. Ah! how little it beseemeth Me to rail, Whose own fingers drew the cordage, Drove the nail! Yet, remember, Lord, and pity These my bands, And when Thou comest to Thy Kingdom, Heal my hands. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MYSTIC BOUNCE by TERRANCE HAYES MATHEMATICS CONSIDERED AS A VICE by ANTHONY HECHT UNHOLY SONNET 11 by MARK JARMAN SHINE, PERISHING REPUBLIC by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE COMING OF THE PLAGUE by WELDON KEES A LITHUANIAN ELEGY by ROBERT KELLY A CHILD'S THOUGHTS by ANNA BUNSTON DE BARY |
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