The Scarred Hands of Love

In the celestial realm, where light dances eternal,
There stands One whose hands bear the marks of time.
Not blemishes of age or toil's rough caress,
But sacred scars, a testament sublime.

These hands, once pierced, now reach out in grace,
Fingers etched with love's indelible trace.
Each line and furrow tells a story untold,
Of sacrifice made, of love pure and bold.

When storms of life rage and shadows loom tall,
Those scarred hands reach down, ready to catch your fall.
They've known pain, these hands, they've felt every tear,
Now they cradle your heart, chasing away fear.

In moments of doubt, when your path seems unclear,
The One with marked feet walks beside you, so near.
Each step is a promise, each print in the sand,
A reminder you're guided by His loving hand.

These scars are not weakness, but strength beyond measure,
A bridge spanning earth and heaven's treasure.
They whisper of hope when all seems lost,
Of a love so deep it counted no cost.

So when you feel broken, remember this truth:
The scars He bears were meant just for you.
To hold you, to heal you, to see you through,
A beautiful reminder - His love remains true.

In the presence of glory, where angels bow down,
The One on the throne wears those scars like a crown.
For you are the reason He bears them with pride,
His beautiful child, for whom He lived and died.