My Father’s hands

I was told that he was muscular. When a mosquito landed on his hand, he would tense up his muscles and the mosquito wouldn’t be able to extricate itself. Then he would show it off to my mum gleefully and smack the trapped mozzie…my father’s hands. In keeping with this Sunday’s sharing topic.

There’s the other Father with a capital “F”. Now, He’s different…omniscient, i.e. He is here and there and now and then AT THE SAME TIME. What’s more, He is kind and wise. Lucky me, to have such a Father.

A song I like very much: This is my Father’s world. Lyrics:

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; his hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white, declare their maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: he shines in all that’s fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass; he speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world: why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring! God reigns; let the earth be glad!

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