The hand that I hold

I had a dream last night
as I often do.
But this one was different,
it felt like real life too.
Though I could not see him,
I felt his hand.
Though I could not hear him,
I heard his plan.
I would turn and turn,
To try and catch a glimpse.
Though I knew if I seen him or not,
It wouldn't make a difference.
As I turned around in circles,
I never caught a sight.
So I just closed my eyes and believed
He was there, he was oh so bright.
Then I heard a whisper,
Within my ear.
That said he was close,
Actually very near.
So I asked out loud,
Into the blank air.
Well father can I see you,
So I know you're truly there?
He replied so swiftly,
With great pride in his voice.
Whether you see me or not,
Is not mine but your choice.
So I stopped and I thought,
Is an image what I need?
Do I need to put a face,
To truly see my majesty?
Then my answer was there,
Not as a picture.
But in letters and numbers,
Right in his word.
I awoke feeling great.
At a glorious peace.
Reached beside my bed,
Right within my reach.
Now I study His Word,
As I walk this earth.
Until I can have,
My wonderful second birth.
For then I will see,
My protector so bold.
There will be a face,
With the hand that I hold.