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 hands in 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

As little hands reach out to me
To show them what to do,
I'm steadied, reassured and loved
As I reach up to You.

- Judith Peitsch