By Joseph Masilamany
When joy of ordination fades away,
And silent hours stretch long the weary day,
When thou art lone, with none but self to see,
Turn then thine eyes upon thy hands with glee.
Behold those hands - not thine alone they be,
But stamped with mark of Heaven’s mystery.
For these are hands by Christ Himself once claimed,
Anointed, sanctified, and ever named.
Hands that the balm of mercy do bestow,
To lift the heart bowed down by guilt and woe.
Hands that absolve, in whispered grace unseen,
And cleanse the soul, though stained, to white pristine.
Hands that do bless, that consecrate and heal,
That lift the Host, and make the Spirit real.
O worthy hands, at altar bright and fair,
That raise to Heaven both bread and earnest prayer.
When thou art spent, and weary from the field,
When prayers seem dull and fruit doth naught but yield -
Take heart, brave priest, thy path is not in vain,
Thy toil unseen shall reap celestial gain.
Though crown or cross the morrow may bestow,
Though lauds of men or scorn be thine to know,
Time is the judge—and time shall show thy worth,
As Christ shall crown thee not by rank, but birth.
For thou art wed to Bride the world despised,
The Church, for whom the Lord was sacrificed.
And through thy voice, His living Word is said,
Through thee, the wine is Blood, the Host is Bread.
So tarry on, O shepherd of the fold,
Thy chalice full, thy Gospel ever bold.
Though days be dark and solace oft be thin,
Thou art the watchman where the saints begin.
And when thy race is run, thy labour ceased,
Thou shalt behold the hands of Christ—the Priest—
Who once was known in silence, bread, and wine,
Now lifts thy soul to rest in light divine.
A special dedication to all priest today when Jesus established the institution of the Holy Priesthood on Holy Thursday. A shorter version of this poem was previously published in various Catholic media before. The writer who resides in Borneo is a freelance journalist for several mainstream and Catholic media.
