In the palm of His hand:
    My resting place; Sure.
The strength and the comfort;
    And the pleasures, so pure.

So long I avoided
    Its precious enclave.
And ran from its chastening.
    As a fool, I behave.

Like other men, searching;
    To stand on my own,
And proudly establish
    A brass, worldly throne.

I wasted my strength
    And my effort for years.
And, instead of a throne,
    Made a world full of tears.

Until, one day, I asked Him,
    "Where do I stand?"
And He said, "Bow your head...
    "...See the palm of my hand?"

And, that's when I noticed
    I was nothing but clay;
Entirely unable
    To form things My Way!

And when I said, "Squeeze-me-tight..."
    "...Bend me all I can stand."
I found peace and comfort
    In the palm of His hand.