The wounded hands of a KingThrough which we drove the nails,Still reach out to usAfter this heinous deed. How could we? These Hands gave us nothing but blessings. These Hands broke bread to us and multiplied it. These Hands healed our sick...
The works of Your fingers, Lord,Your handiwork, blazes a trail of Your PresenceSpoken in the sky. Even with this absence of audible speech,No being in heaven or earthCan fail to hear Your voice,Or read Your lips,As you speak to the farthest cornerOf the...
