Hands

                  Thank you Lord for dirty hands
                  That touch my stove and fridge;
                  For sticky little fingers that
	          Try to build a bridge.

                  For careless hands that go astray
                  In search of something new;
                  For hands to hold and show the way
                  As mothers often do.

                 For precious little hand sin which 
                 Great faith so abounds;
                 For silly little hands that reach 
                 To touch a mother's frown.
   
                 And thank you for your guiding hand
                 that leads me to the light;
                 That lifts me when I stumble
                 And points me to the right.

© 1998 dshyanne@geocities.com