His Hands in Mine

His Hands in Mine

The room was filled with people
The friends of the dying man
Talking and laughing, yet deep concern
Etched in every brow.

The dying man limping into the room
Blood running from his foot
Unnoticed it seemed to all, but me.

I reached for a towel
A basin of water
And bending down
Washed the dying man’s foot.

It was no longer me, but He
His hands in mine
Poured ointment on the dying man’s feet.

Tenderly and lovingly His hands
Held these feet…
“If I wash thee not,
Thou shall have not part with Me.”

His hands in mine
The memory fills me with peace
For it was He who washed
The dying man’s feet, not me.

 ~ Lily of the Fields

A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one to another.” John 13:34

Image from Mud Preacher

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