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Empty My Hands
© April 2008, Roy Stucky

I know this world is not my home.
The Kingdom's business trumps my own.
This realm of thorns would choke the seed
And leave our fallow hearts to bleed.

Then I hear a voice in the cool of the day
Who asks my purpose in running away.
I break for some cover then stop myself short.
He's here as my advocate friend of the court.

Despite my heroics
At pushing this plow
There won't be a harvest
If I forget how
To empty my hands
Right here and right now.
I empty my hands
And remember to bow.

The work assigned in Christ's decree
Remains the face that people see.
But God knows when He looks inside
How often I'm the slave of pride.

I empty my hands
Of all that I prize.
I empty my hands
And lift up my eyes.
That still small voice
Is still a surprise.
I empty my hands
So vanity dies.