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His Hands
Nail-scared
from the Cross,
My sins were lifted from me.
only Satan would feel the loss.
He placed His hands upon my head,
His glory through me did flow,
His
healing Power, His loving touch,
Did set me all aglow.
His loving kindness I did feel,
As I
knelt there in His bright-ness.
I recalled the words I once read.
Every knee will bow, every tongue confess. . ."
No other name means salvation,
No other name can compare.
For by His stripes we were healed.
And salvation comes through prayer.
John M. Moore
Index to More Favorite Poems
& Stories
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