Coming Empty handed
One by one He took them from me,
All the things I valued most.
Until I was empty-handed;
Every glittering toy was lost.
Then I walked earth’s highway grieving,
In my rags and poverty;
‘Til I heard His voice inviting:
Lift your empty hands to me.
So I held my hands toward Heaven,
And He filled them with a store
Of His own transcendent riches,
‘Til they could contain no more.
Then at last I comprehended
With my stupid mind and dull,
That God could not pour out His riches
Into hands already full.
-Martha Snell Nicholson