Open Hands

I cannot serve with hands grasping tight,

Clenched behind my back to keep hold of

What I want, what I think I need, deserve, desire

Dross and broken dreams, ash and dust, useless

But mine, undeniably

Empty hands I would be of use to you

To soothe and rescue, to feed and defend

And so I would find my empty hands soul-filled

With grace and hope and love, spread with peace

Treasure, undeniable

Open my hands, my God, I hold them before you

Relax these stubborn fingers from my hold

Take these broken dreams

Take this pain, this doubt, this fear

These tears of self-made sorrow

Empty my hands, my King, I raise them to you

Fill them with grace

Not to be grasped, squeezed, owned

And so distorted and destroyed

But to be held loose and given free