Lift Your Empty Hands to Me
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 highway grieving,
In my rags and poverty,
Till I heard His voice inviting,
“Lift your empty hands to me.”
So I turned my hands toward heaven,
And He filled them with a store
Of His own transcendent riches,
Till they could contain no more,
Then at last I comprehended,
With my stupored mind and dull,
That God could not pour His riches
Into hands already full.