My Father’s Hand

“My Father’s Hand”

By Farrah Adkins

Pain and sorrow.
Fear of the morrow.

Worry invades…
Reality fades…

Whispers of doubt,
Turn to lies that shout.

Heart breaking…
Chest aching…

Hands shaking…
Shoulders quaking…

Pulse pounding…
Panic compounding.

Darkness tightens like a vice.
The enemy’s aim is precise.

Arrows flying all around,
Paralyzed, I fall to the ground.

And then from the depths of my soul,
I am reminded who is in control.

He is the author of my story,
And it will work for good and His glory.

I know the command.
I must take courage and stand.
For He is always by my side.
What I need, He has supplied.

I rise to my feet without haste,
And touch my fingers to my waist.
To be a soldier in this war,
His TRUTH must surround my core.

My hand slides up to the plate.
His commands I must demonstrate.
I must glorify Him through
everything I think, say, and do.

Standing in grace,
His peace holds me in place.
My helmet is secure.
I belong to Christ, I’m sure.

With faith as my shield,
My sword, I wield.
His Word I speak loud and clear,
“…The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear….” ¹

Armed and ready on the rock I stand.
Nothing can snatch me from my Father’s hand.