Lift Your Empty Hands to Me

One by one he took them from me,

All the things I valued most,

Until I was empty-handed;

Every glittering toy was lost.

And I walked earth’s highway grieving,

In my rags and poverty,

Till I heard His voice inviting,

“Lift your empty hands to me.”

So I turned my hands toward heaven,

And He filled them with a store

Of His own transcendent riches,

Till they could contain no more,

Then at last I comprehended,

With my stupored mind and dull,

That God could not pour His riches

Into hands already full.