His Unfailing Hand

When dreams lay scattered like stones in the sand
Beneath a lack-luster sky
When all of our wishes won’t heed our commands
And the well of good luck has run dry
When the songs we once danced to can no longer cheer
But weep ‘cross a barren land
Won’t you reach out to the One that is near?
And hold to His unfailing Hand
Oh, hold to His unfailing hand

When there is no music to brighten the way
And clouds over-shadow our path
The wooing of memories cannot persuade
The ill-wind to rescind its wrath
Blindly into the vast unknown
The roads of life command
But oh, praise God, we are never alone
If we hold to His unfailing hand
If we hold to His unfailing hand

Fortune is fickle and luck is a myth
And Time a relentless stride
Life is merely a prelude to death
And a door to the other side
But faith is not futile nor Hope without end
There’s purpose in life’s shifting sand
If we know the love of mankind’s greatest Friend
And hold to His unfailing hand
Oh, hold to His unfailing hand

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Janet Martin

The Lord is thy keeper;
The Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. Ps. 121:5

Put it in His Hands

Are you running out of answers?
Is the wisdom of this sphere
Too inconclusive, void and empty?
Do you worry, do you fear?
Are the burdens you are bearing
Placing you on sinking sand
There is One, faithful and caring
Oh, just put it in His hands

Are you tired of believing
That this cruel life isn’t fair
Are you reaching, ever reaching
But no one seems to be there?
There is One who always sees us
There is One who understands
There is One, His name is Jesus
Oh, just put it in His hands

Put it in the hands of mercy
In the hands of Heaven’s own
Put it in the hands of Jesus
He will never let you down
Are you weary of the struggle?
And this life’s endless demands
There is One who knows your trouble
Oh, just put it in His hands

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Janet Martin

Come to Me, all you who are weary
And burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me
For I am gentle and humble in heart and you will
Find rest for your souls.
For My yoke is easy and My burden is light. Matt. 11:28-30

Hand of God

You steal across a slumbering charcoal land
With a warm translucent hand
You brush away the silent darkened hue
With a breath of softest baby blue
The waving fields of slate-toned grain
Become a sea of gold again
The tear that plagues the lonely soul
Finds hope within dawns coral glow
Ah love, ah, the hope of opportunity
Once more you reach your hand to me
As I, a stumbling slave of sod
Reach out to touch the hand of God

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Janet Martin

His compassions never fail;
They are new every morning. Lam.3:22-23

The Hand of God

I till, I plant, I weed, I hoe
I dream, I prune and prod
Yet in spite of all I do
The increase comes from God

With my hands I sweat and toil
To work this earthly sod
But any life within this soil
Rests in the hand of God

In spite of all our wisdom grand
And knowledge gleaned from sod
The increase lies in but one hand
The mighty hand of God

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Janet Martin

Yesterday I spent all afternoon in the garden….
Picking, hoeing, weeding, staking, …you know?
I remarked that I had NEVER seen the corn
Look as promising as it did this year.
We had a big wind and rain storm in the night….
This poem was my thoughts after the initial disappointment.
And so this life is…..
In spite of all our knowledge in any area of our lives
The increase lies in one Hand!

The Lord does whatever pleases Him,
In the heavens and on the earth;
He makes clouds rise from the ends of the earth;
He sends lightning with the rain
And brings out the wind from His storehouses. Ps.135:6-7

Three Strands

It became final today
Words on paper to say
That two are no longer one
And the ties that bind are undone

The little children cry
Why must we say good-bye?
How cold life’s bitter wind
That severs the ties that bind

Two strands are better than one
For if we break, we fall alone
Yet better than two strands are three
God, then you and me

When howls the cruel gale
Two strands are doomed to fail
But God gives His word as a token
Three strands are not easily broken

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Janet Martin

A cord of three strands
Is not quickly broken. Eccles.4:12

Heaven's Hands

In the corridors of summer
I have seen fair heavens Hand
Where the hummingbird is wafting,
And the green sea bathes the sand
Where the face of yellow daisy
Hums its evening lullaby
In a breeze so soft and lazy
Dropping kisses from the sky……
Where the seed of springtime’s hour
Yields a full and glorious birth
In the form of frond and flower
As it clothes fair summer’s girth
With a gardens verdant chorus
Neath a star-strewn canopy
Where summer reigns victorious
In her lush serenity

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Janet Martin

Tonight there is pure summer silence...
only the faintest breath of a breeze
stirring in the maple trees.

Field of Daisies

Take your tropical vacations
Travel all around the world
See the wonders of the nations
And their finest sights unfurled
I am satisfied with summer
In its pure and simple bliss
Drop me in a field of daisies
‘Neath the sunshine’s soft warm kiss

Take me to the brink of heaven
Where the summer breezes play
Where the endless cares are driven
To horizons far away
Where the morning warm and hazy
Beckons in a lacy dress
Take me to a field of daisies
‘Neath the blue skies soft caress

On a hill-side swept with laughter
Of a thousand, thousand blooms
Where I gaze at heavens rafters
From the grandest living-rooms
Here in meadows, soft and lazy
On the summer-scented sod
In a field of perfect daisies
I have seen the hand of God

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Janet Martin

Marked Hands

When I was just a little girl at my mother’s knee,
I asked her as I touched her hands just how it came to be,
There were so many lines on them; they were so marked and rough,
Not knowing the price a mother pays to make sure we had enough

Marked hands of a mother; marked by a labor of love,
Daily chores in daily life, strengthened by a Hand above,
Marked hands of a mother; a price so gladly paid,
The most beautiful hands on earth that God has ever made

My little daughter asked me not so very long ago
Why my hands were marked and rough and just what made them so,
A world of emotion moved me behind my simple reply,
‘A mother’s hands get marked with time as busy days go by’,

Marked hands of a mother; someday she’ll understand
That all the caring and the sharing leave marks on a mother’s hands,
Hands that labor gladly for all that God has given,
Hands that fold in thankful prayer to a Father up in Heaven

Someday I’ll sit in Heaven at my Savior’s knee,
I’ll touch His nail-scarred hands and ask just why He died for me,
Marks on the hands of Jesus; marks of a price He paid,
Marks of love amazing in the sacrifice He made,

Marked hands of my Savior; marked by a labor of love,
For only through His nail-scarred Hands will we see Him above,
Then at His feet I’ll gaze on Him and ask to understand
The story of such awesome love as I touch the marks on His hands

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Janet Martin

Touch the Hand

Touch the hand of the One who forms
The heart of the bud of the rose
Touch the hand that shapes the lilies
And cradles every storm that blows
Touch the hand that heals the wounded
Or washes dusty fields with summer rain
Touch the hand that holds the power
To make the broken-hearted whole again

Touch the hand that held the nails
That pierced the One who sets men free
Touch the hand that loves us still
Though we are vile as we can be
Touch the hand that washes clean
The deepest sin-stains, red as blood
Touch the hand that purifies us
Touch the hand, the hand of God

Oh, touch the hand that will not falter
When it seems no one can understand
When the world’s a cruel shoulder
Won’t you reach to touch the hand?
The hand that soothes the tempest
And brings life to dormant sod
Touch the hand that bears the love-scars
Touch the hand, the hand of God

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Janet Martin

These Hands

These hands love me
These hands hold
These hands touch me
And console
These hands open
And entwine
‘Round each heartbeat
In my mind

These hands soothe me
Ease my pain
Some refuse me
These remain
These hands mold
Shape and refine
These hands fold
Fingers entwine


These hands love me
These hands form
The sky above me
And each storm
These hands gently
Take my hand
Help me onward
Help me stand

These hands wore
Cold nails for me
These hands bore
Iniquity
These hands set
Each sinner free
These hands love
Eternally




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Janet Martin

GOD IS STILL ON HIS THRONE

When our painted hills of purple don a robe of sullen grey
And the church-bells in the chapel have no chorus left to play
When the dew upon the roses turns into a shroud of frost
And the grief that life imposes makes us ponder love’s great cost
GOD IS STILL ON HIS THRONE

When the laughter and the sunshine in the spring-time of our life
Rewards us with an autumn ‘neath a cold and cruel knife
The colors of our rainbow fade to lurid shades of grey
Our respite is a shadow and a cherished memory
GOD IS STILL ON HIS THRONE

When the flicker of a candle is the symbol of our hope
And we cannot reach the handle of the door for which we grope
As the darkness seeps around us and life’s echo is our cry
It seems demons surround us in an evil lullaby
GOD IS STILL ON HIS THRONE

When the enemy reminds us that we’re weak and can’t defend
Someone greater stands behind us offering grace which has no end
For His strength shines in perfection when we can no longer stand
As we call in desperation for love’s kind unfailing Hand
GOD IS STILL ON HIS THRONE

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Janet Martin

He said, My grace is sufficient for you,
My power is made perfect in weakness....2 Cor. 12:9

Strong Enough

Lord, when I’m determined to do things on my own
When I ignore your mercy and the goodness you have shown
When I think I’m strong enough; forget to hold Your hand
Soon it seems I need your loving arm to help me stand….

Oh my Lord, oh don’t let go
When I’m too weak to say no
Gird me with Your tender love
Lord, until I’m strong enough

Lord, when I’m determined to take the harder way
Against my better judgment, foolishly I stray
And soon the sorrow of my sin draws me to Your love
As I cry, Jesus, hold me until I’m strong enough

Oh my Lord, oh don’t let go
For you know I love you so
Oh my Lord, without Your love
I never could be strong enough

Out of my barren desert where temptation led astray
Into Your arms Lord Jesus, lift me as I pray
Out of sin and darkness into Your hope and love
Only there my Savior, will I be strong enough

Oh my Lord, oh don’t let go
‘Round me demons ebb and flow
But within Your arms of love
There I will be strong enough

Forgive me Lord, if I let go
Jesus loves me this I know
For You wrap me in Your love
Where I can be strong enough

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Janet Martin

God is our refuge and strength.
A very present help in trouble. Ps. 46:1

And I Beheld.......

As hand in hand we climbed the hills
Far from the noise and daily spills
Into the silence of nature’s hush
Get-away from life’s ceaseless rush
As the whisper of beech, of elm and pine
Serenaded your heart and mine
I turned to get lost in your azure gaze
And I beheld the glimpse of another face….

We paused to view the fields below
A-wash with green and golden glow
The late day sun seemed to enhance
This canvas where the shadows dance
A splash of wordless paradise
Lay silently before our eyes
I softly kissed the hand I held
And suddenly another hand I beheld….

As the sun dropped low and out of sight
And its red glow faded to shades of night
As we drank in the scent of dust and dew
And the fields below disappeared from view
Still we stayed ‘neath this canopy
Of star and moon in a deep blue sea
In arms of love how pleasant this sod
And I beheld a glimpse of God

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Janet Martin

How beautiful you are, my darling.
Oh, how beautiful. Song of songs 4:1

Perfection

So, this is perfection then
I surmise as I watch the moon
climb
In silent, invisible ascent
The star-studded hallway
‘neath a royal blue tent
Its silver light a misty veil
Shining
On a globe now pale
Until a silent unseen Hand
Draws across its light a strand
Of purple cloud and the world below
Loses its enchanted silver glow
But still I know
This Hand which is in control
Of heaven, earth, each living soul
Eternally
Watching over you and me
And my breath becomes a prayer
Breathed into the velvet air
Softly
Lord God of creation
Thank-you for letting me behold
Perfection

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Janet Martin

Not My Own

On my own I’m doomed to fail
An utter hopeless cause
When life’s cruel winds prevail
How great would be my loss
And when the clouds of bitter woe
Would crush me where I stand
I could not go where I should go
Without my Father’s hand

On my own my greatest wealth
Would be my foolish pride
My ignorance would be my fame
If You I have denied
I would have no hope at all
And truly be alone
The battle lost before it’s fought
If I were on my own

But because of Calvary
I’ll never be alone
Because of Christ’s blood shed for me
I am not my own
And so in spite of this world’s doom
And fear of the unknown
I can face each day with hope
For I am not my own

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Janet Martin

Be ye therefore followers of God
as dear children; and walk in love as
Christ has loved us and has given himself for us an
offering and sacrifice to God.....Eph.5:1-2

The Master's Hand

I had me some big plans, some dreams unfulfilled,
With my lump of clay I was going to build,
Great were the castles devised in my mind,
Up until now there’d been none of its kind,
Then a gentle voice said, ‘But your castles are sand,
Won’t you put your clay in the Master’s hand?

But I had the answers so I shook my head,
‘I’ve got it worked out’ I foolishly said,
Never mind that my hands were weak and unskilled,
With my clay and my dreams I was going to build
My plans were fool-proof and they were so grand
To great to be touched by the Master’s hand

Well, the castles I’ve built with my arrogant pride
Are crumbling sadly though I’ve wept and I’ve cried,
Still my stubborn ambitions will not be defeated,
As I turn a deaf ear to an offer repeated
I resist his plea ‘need to do what I planned’
And I turn a blind eye to the Master’s hand

How sad are the follies devised by man,
How pathetic, how hopeless a Godless plan,
I sit in the rubble of my created despair,
Down-cast. I look up and I see a hand there,
And now, broken-hearted and defeated I stand
As I reach for the touch of the Master’s hand

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Janet Martin