Sunday Poem ~ Empty Hands

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One by one He took them from me,
All the things I valued most;
Until I was empty-handed,
Every glittering toy was lost.

And I walked earth’s highways, grieving,
In my rage and poverty,
Till I heard His voice inviting, ”
Lift your empty hands to me.”

So I held my hands toward Heaven
And He filled them with a store
Of His own transcendent riches
Until they could hold no more.

And at last I comprehended,
With my stupid mind and dull,
That God could not pour His riches
Into hands already full!

-Martha Snell Nicholson

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