Humble are these hands that hold your little soul within my breast
They caress your blossoming shape with every moment of life’s breath.

Humble are these feet that walk upon the pathway of beauty and truth
They carry a growing spirit inside this vessel of your origins’ roots.

And humble will be the hands that reach for a mother’s unending love
Humble will be the feet that run toward the arms of a father’s touch.

Humble are the hands that were nailed to the Cross formed from a tree
Humble were the soles of the feet that walked the hill of Calvary.

Humble are the hands that healed, and tenderly washed our feet
Humble was the Saviour of all – such perfect love was He.

Because of Him, the Lord has made me humble and so I shall remain
I feel your hands and feet inside me, child, such purity I cannot contain.

Humility has settled upon us, yes in this - such a forming state
So as I await your arrival, I know God’s timing is never too early nor too late.

You were meant to be my son, right from the very start
So even though you don’t have too much, you certainly have my heart!

08/27/2003

Posted on 09/02/2003
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