On a Lonely Hill

Inheritance

I got my eyes from my fatherAnd my mothers head of hair.My dimples came from grandpa,Great-grandma's skin that's fair.But, my sins were of my own making.No one gave me them to bear.And, I bent beneath the burdenOf deep needs and grievous cares.Daddy's eyes, they now...

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In His Hand

In God's great hand, my name is written down ...Not lightly, but with bold deliberate strokes;Engraved forever, there for me to seeOne day, when I come home,Still following the way.I cannot fathom why the great "I Am"Should plan for me to know His pen has traced The...

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In My Weakness

When you're lost in a sea of indifference,When you're drowning but nobody cares,When it seems all is lost ('though you've paid the high cost)And you can't pierce the ceiling with prayers,  When you're standing for right (but, alone in your fight),When your heart is...

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In His Hands

About 1997, my Sunday School class decided our 132 day drought had lasted long enough and we put our chairs against the west wall of our Sunday School room and got on our knees. We prayed to God, our Father, that He would forgive all our sins, cover us over with the...

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Mamma’s Hands

When I was small, with fevered brow ...Well, days were different then.Mamma came, throughout the night,With medicine to give.She brought a cloth and washed my face.Her bedside style was grand.And, oh, the comfort brought to me,When Mamma washed my hands!Throughout my...

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Author

Joan Clifton Costner

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