Your Precious Hands

Your Precious Hands Your precious hands become my own When weariness gives way to pain They lift me up when I’m alone. Some hearts become as cold as stone And future visions seem in vain Your precious hands become my own Your hands relieve my every moan When tears well up; It starts to rain They lift me up when I’m alone Most blessed hands I’ve ever known Each fold of flesh, each knotted vein Your precious hands become my own To ropes of bondage I am prone They seek for service not acclaim They lift me up when I’m alone At times my life seems tossed and blown And I can’t help, but to complain Your precious hands become my own They lift me up when I’m alone. IlaMae Stucki ©7/24/2010