On Sabbath’s calm, with whispered grace,
A hand once withered found its place.
No rule, no law, could bind the might,
Of love that heals, of purest light.

The critics watched with eyes of stone,
Yet mercy stood, unbowed, alone.
A touch, a word, a heart made whole—
A spark of grace to heal the soul.

To choose compassion, brave and clear,
To stand for love when others fear.
For sometimes faith must bend the rule,
To teach that love is Heaven’s school.

And so we learn, in steps so small,
To heal, to lift, to answer the call.
In hands we hold, let kindness flow,
And walk with peace where others go.

Created by
MarkWAldrop

Mat 12:13  Then he said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." So he stretched it out and it was completely restored, just as sound as the other.