Poem September 6, 2010 Issue

Hand in hand

Caroline Martin

My Father softly called to me
As I was rushing out the door,
"Won't you stay beside Me
For just a minute more?
You have grown so weary
Amidst life's push and pull,
I long to put My hand in yours,
But yours are always full."

I stood quite still and felt within
A warmth of long ago,
A quiet voice reminding me
That I am not alone.
I dropped my burdens one by one
And closed my tear-filled eyes.
Then hand in hand we stood
once more,
My Father and His child.

—Caroline Martin

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