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his touch

I never sensed a lacking; my life seemed full and rich,
I lived and laughed and thought I had so much.
Rolling ‘long the track of life when someone threw a switch,
My course was changed forever by His touch.

His words, at first, seemed ancient; irrelevant to me;
But, reaching deep, He touched a memory lost.
His path then looked so different than I imagined it would be;
Not mournful; no, that pearl of precious cost.

Unlike fabled Midas, His touch then dimmed my gold,
Those things that I had valued seemed to fade.
The games that I’d been playing somehow lost their hold,
His touch transformed the man that I had made.

Like a phoenix from the ashes, I renewed within His fire,
He touched my eyes and broke away the scales.
I gained a joyful vision that was sharper, further, higher;
The world’s most precious metals were those nails.

Those nails that fastened more than just a trembling god to wood,
Secured the hopes of all the sons of men.
Every joy and every love and all that we call good
Is only but for naught if not for Him.

Someday all will touch those wounds, on that the scripture’s clear,
And with that touch they’ll know His words are true.
What a difference it will make to not wait for that year
To feel His touch that heals the wounds in you.

And now I look on others on that path that I once trod,
The sophisticate, the skeptic, and the such;
As blind as those in Jesus’ day who came to see their God;
True vision still comes only through His touch.

Picture of Wes Stephenson

Wes Stephenson

Author, motorcyclist, poet, and adventurer. Let's journey together.



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