In the Palm of His Hand
He holds me in the palm His hand,
That is how I learn to stand.
I know Him, for He lifted me there,
And now I speak with Him in prayer.
He holds me firm, He will not let go—
Not for the good works I may show.
But because He is God, who chose to love,
And keeps me near by grace from above.
I choose to follow, to love Him today,
Grateful He holds me each time I pray.
By His pure mercy I’ve come to know
The Lord of heaven, in whom I grow.
He could release me, let me fall,
If I declared I don't need Him at all.
And yes, I’ve tried to run away,
To walk alone, to seek my own way.
In tears and sorrow, He let me roam,
Lost and wandering, far from home.
Yet love compelled Him to lift me again,
From mire and dirt, forgiving my sin.
He draws all people, longing they see
In the palm of His hand, they're meant to be.
Humbly yielding, carried through
In every trial, in all that they do.
It’s not our will, nor our design,
But His great love for all mankind.
All things unfold beneath His reign,
He holds our lives, our joy, our pain.
Yes, we are safe in the palm of His hand,
By His grace alone we’re able to stand.
So thankful I rest, upheld by His care—
My God, my Creator, is present everywhere.
©1998 Sandra C. Johnson
This poem has been set to music, found here.
https://youtu.be/DXKZmwWQ5Fg?si=A0XXG3XwfNYMR15x
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