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 as the other hand.

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

Note:- This poem was written in all India medical hospital when I was to be operated. In reality it's my prayer in which I seek God's interference to heal me. He really has healed me and I thank him for it . It was written the day I met an accident and my hand got crushed between two buses.

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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