My Hands

I come to You naked and poor
At my wits end, I hit the floor
I raise my hands in open submission
Tears spill out in my frustration

What do You do with me, Lord
How can I go on
Success in the crucified flesh
Seems so far away

Will I make it to the end
And You still be my Friend
I scarcely believe it be so
But sweetly and tenderly
You wrap Your arms round me
Reassuring me in the work
Lifting my eyes to meet Yours

Won’t you see My child
Tis I who spreads the fragrant aroma
Tis I who sets the captives free
Tis I who loves you tenderly
The work is in My hands