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My Jesus

(By Rachel Joyce)

With their own eyes, they saw Him,

The perfect radiance of God’s holy splendor.

With their own hands, they touched Him,

Whose caring hands hold the galaxies in place.

And with their own ears, they heard

Words of life and truth uttered by the Living Word,

Truth itself, in whom we have eternal life.

As I muse on what they had

An ache of longing wells up deep within my heart.

I want to see with my eyes,

His face, the expression of tenderness and love

In His eyes gazing at me.

I long to touch those hands so scarred by sharp nails,

To feel His arms hold me close.

For that is home, my true home.

Where His gentlest whisper resounds in my ears

And His voice is all I hear.

His life-giving words of truth feed my hungry soul.

Until then, I will draw near,

By faith gazing, listening with hands outstretched

To the One my soul adores.

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