In His Hands

They called him Mr. Guitar, Chet Atkins was his name

At 9 years old he swapped a pistol, for some old cheap six string

Probably a Silvertone or Stella, some Sears & Roebuck brand

But it sounded like a Martin in his hand’s

His hero was Merle Travis, so he picked his fingers numb

Till he finally learned the secret, of keeping rhythm with his thumb

Now if they need a little flattop, in Heavens angel band

The good Lord will surely place it in his hands

They called him the commerce comet, Micky Mantle was his name

And he ran faster than the wind could cross the Oklahoma plains

And he could knock a ball a country mile, long before he was a man

The bat felt like a matchstick in his hands

In 51 the old professor knew Dimag could not go on

So he put the Mick in center field and brought another pennant home

That boy could turn a Brooklyn dodger straight into a Yankee fan

When he put a Louisville slugger in his hands

Faulkner makes me feel the summer of a dusty delta day

And I can taste the salty ocean when I’m reading Hemmingway

How do the words upon the paper make feel the way they can

He only had a pen and paper in his hands

They called him the messiah, Jesus was his name

Just a carpenter from Bethlehem, who quickly rose to fame

Because he dared to claim his father, that sent him to this land

And placed the fate of this whole world in his hands

They scorned him and they mocked him, they put him on the cross

He died there to forgive them, so this world would not be lost

With his blood forever washed away the sins of every man

When they put those rust nails in his hands

All of us are only pieces in the puzzle of God’s plan

We just have to put our faith in his hand’s

Lyrics Submitted by Avery Ennis