Season 2, Episode 5, God Please Grasp my Hand
Poetry of Christian FaithJuly 30, 2021x
01:03:4887.62 MB

Season 2, Episode 5, God Please Grasp my Hand

The Clock Poems

Chapter 1 (God Still Rhymes)

The Clock Poems

 With the exception of the first poem in this chapter, these poems were inspired by a wall clock in the room where my wife and I attended a seven week series called Christ Life.  The sessions consisted of a video viewed by the whole group, then we broke up into small groups.  At the end of each session, we returned to the larger meeting room for a song and prayer.  One meeting while waiting for everyone to return from their small groups, something that I had noticed about the clock before, now inspired me to write the following poems.  Give me the time and this is what can happen.

Discussion:  Explain significance of the room the clock was in

Grandfather Clock

 Old Grandfather clock

tick tock

pendulum swinging

those hands purposely


the hours

of time

that face has seen

so much

and there’s no such

time as now

for no matter

how we try

we can’t close

time’s eye

and grandfather clock

keeps sounding on

tick tock

tick tock   (1971)


The Broken Clock?

Time stands still

as our hands circle time,

day in, night out.

And without doubt,

if we were to stand still,

time would move forward,

life would not stand still,

no matter our will.

For it is in God our hours

are measured

by his hands on the clock.

Time is his

to stand still

or move forward

at his will.


(The broken clock, I think not.)


Still the Clock Is Still

The clock is still there,

Hands idle, never moving.

So, I take a breath of air

To know that my heart is still moving.


9:30 (AM or PM?),

Though it was just after lunch,

And with that I had a hunch

That I was in a time crunch;

Too late for brunch,

Too early for a snack to munch.


So I sat still,

My hands not moving,

Idly wondering

What was God’s will?

Our Time Standing Still

The clock makes not a sound,

Its hands never turning round

Its numbered face.

There will be no race,

Not today.

That is not 

To say

That someday

We will see

That maybe

Time is no stranger

As we face danger

Of our living

And not giving

Our time,

Our dime

To help feed

Those in need.

Time standing still,

Just waiting until

We make the time

To share his grace,

To plant a seed

So someone will see

Life in the manger.


The Clock, the Time, Our Hours 

Time, is it ours or is it hours,

The hands that do not move?

As we move through time

Do we make life rhymes?


Whose face is on the clock?

Does it reflect

     the number of years,

     the number of fears,

     the number of tears?

The rhymes that age us

As we look in the mirror,

Is it ours or the face of time?


Will the hands on the clock

Give us time to unlock

The secrets we keep,

Our sins so deep?

Do we have the hours,

At least to start,

To open our heart

And release what was ours?


Time will wait for no one.

Will we be standing still

At the end of time?

Time will not go on into infinity

As we wait for eternity.



We are free,

what ever

we want to be

for all to see

especially he

that is in 

Heaven above.

Will we choose

his love

before the end?

Will we accept

the grace

he did send?

In the shining sun,

do we have time 

to accept his son,

his sacrifice 

to make us right?


The hands on the clock

sometimes move so odd.

At times they do mock

each and every minute of the day.

But if we make time to pray

we will see the hand of God,

feel his infinite love

his saving grace

his sacrifice 

for our righteousness, 

that we will be for eternity.

The Clock a Few Months Later 

Looking at the clock once again I said,

“it is still 9:30, though I just had lunch.”

To which the priest then said,

“that clock hasn’t worked for forty years.”


Can you imagine what time,

as if it were noticed, 

has been missed all those years

as those hands stand idle?


(How can hands stand?

I guess the same as us

when we spend time

idle, without Jesus.)


Through the years . . . 

 tears of fears,

the joys of a baby boy,

a laugh, a cry

as always we try

to give as we live,

a room for meeting

with random seating,

while time seeks what is yours,

what is mine upon sandy shores.

(Can we ever count

the grains of sand

on the sea shore,

let alone those

of the hourglass?)


However, throughout time in that room . . . 


we are able to nourish our souls

while being nourished by soup in bowls,


and prayer,

friendship everywhere.


In the room with the clock

time stands still as our

hearts we do unlock,

more than a minute, forever hours.


No, time has not stopped.

The clock on the wall

gives us the time

to answer his call.



Reflection on The Clock a Few Months Later


This was written after attending one of my grandson’s last day of vacation Bible school.  There was a church service, a program and nachos.  On my way out I talked to the parish priest for a few minutes, which inspired the poem.  The clock is the same one that never moved during the meetings in the previous poems and is the same clock in the same gym that our kids attended middle school.  No wonder it took so long for them to complete those years.


All poems & Reflections © 2019, Tim Carter


1.     What does time mean for our days?

2.     Does time just pass us by or do we plan it?

3.     Can one over plan time?

4.     Most importantly. How much time do we set aside for God and Jesus, or are they constantly with us throughout our days.

Closing Prayer

If you give

Him the times

As you live

His word rhymes

And remember, we are the Kings kids and you will never get rid of us because we are His with Jesus!

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"If you give Him the times As you live His word rhymes "

"We are the King’s kids and you’ll never get rid of us because we are His with Jesus."

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