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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.

By Judith Peitsch
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