The Masters Touch The touch of our Fathers hand Is everywhere we look. The mountains and the oceans, The trees and babbling brook. He paints the pretty sunset That artists love so much. Everything about us Has had the Master's touch. A sweet and tiny newborn baby So perfect, yet, so small, Can't help but make you love The God who made it all. He even sent His son To die on Calvary's tree. When we accept our Saviour From sins we'll be set free. When our Father calls us home No pain or grief we'll see. We'll join the saints in Heaven For all eternity. Copyright Gloria Martel |
