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 mother's 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