Not so dirty that His blood can't Cleanse

a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

Not so dirty,that
His blood can't Cleanse,
Waiting on His mercies,
To save my fingers and hands.

In the hands of the Lord,
I put my crushed hand,
What medicines can not,
Christ, you can.

Guide the fingers of the doctor
Bless the servant's hand,
Let it be all whole,
Just like the other hand.

God of healing,
Heal my hands
He is not just my finger,
Heal my heart soul and mind.

I wrote this poem way back in 1994.I wrote this poem in front of the operation theatre.
I was wearing green dress, as I had to be operated.
I wrote this poem as a prayer to the Almighty God.
This poem was written on a DTC bus ticket, as I had no other better option. I had met with an accident my left hand got crushed between two buses.
As I share these lines with you, I still can see the marks on my left hand. And I still do thank God for protecting my hand.
In reality, it's my prayer in which I seek God's intervention to healing me. He really has healed me and I thank him for it.

Lord I invite you to the ruins of my heart
God's love and spiritual poems
She touched the helm of his garment
Defeat I wear you
All my poems
My hands are tied

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