Moses stood with trembling voice, “Lord, what if they doubt my choice? What if they say, ‘You were not sent’? What proof shall I present?”

God replied with patient grace, “What’s that you hold within your space?” “A staff,” said Moses, worn and plain, yet soon it danced, a serpent’s frame.

He fled in fear, then heard the call, “Take it by the tail, don’t fall.” The snake became a staff once more, A sign of power, deep and sure.

“Now place your hand within your cloak,” Moses did as God had spoke. He drew it out, white as the snow, A leprous mark, a silent woe.

“Return it now,” the Lord then said, And healing flowed where sickness spread. A second sign, a sacred thread, To show the path where Moses led.

“But if they still refuse to see, draw water from the Nile for Me. Pour it on the earth so dry, And watch it turn to blood nearby.”

Three signs, three truths, divine and bold, For hearts unsure and faith grown cold. God equips the ones He sends, With wonders that the doubt transcends.