The Hand that I Wounded

I slapped him hard
I spit in his face
I clawed at his very flesh
For I hated him

I turned back to look once more
No hatred shone in his eyes
Only love
He held his wounded hand towards me

I laughed and turned
I was fine on my own
I needed not him
My pride was well known

The road of independence was well trod
It was easy – smooth
Sometimes fear dared to creep in
Pride pushed it away

One day it overcame me
Body and soul was consumed
By the wrath and love of God
I kneeled to pray but could not speak

I longed to run and flee
Humility of heart was foreign to me
But his hand kept pulling me
I could not resist the strain

Now I walk by His side
The hand that I wounded is now holding mine
No condemnation do I dread
His mercy humbles me

His love makes me bow my knee
I adore His very name
And of His love I cannot attain
It is unfathomable

My selfish heart I gave to him
It was all that I possessed
This heart he took away and gave me His
Now He leads me by His hand

The hand that guides me
I wounded with the nail
The hand the pulled me to life
I once pushed away in pride