Hands
Jesus spoke in parables
So we could understand
He helps us in our troubles
That we will know first hand
He spoke of the body, too
The foot, nose, back, side, and face
He spoke of what hands can do
And someday Him, we'll embrace
The most difficult to paint
Of all the human body
The hand is hard to create
To study, capture and embody
To place the small in the large
Is the tenderest of sights
Love and trust are put in charge!
And one feels life's sweet delights
The sentiments of such love
Should arouse fidelity
A babe giv'n from God above
Is a small package of fragility
When those hands start to grow up
They must learn to be engaged
They can use a measuring cup
And serve both the young and aged
Then comes the day they've grown
On each, a finger - a ring
A pledge made that is their own
Sealed as one to cling
Time passes... hands now of a mother
Bathing, dressing, and feeding
She will serve like no other
Her baby's ever needing
Time passes... hands now of a father
His hands support the family
He's unafraid of labor
Oft it provides, but scantily
In each of the parents hands
Is a sweet willingness to give,
They'll sacrifice their own plans
For each child's future yet to live
And, amidst all these years
Have been unseen hands knocking
Ministering to tears
With or without their spotting
Thomas S. Monson
"Hands", Aug 1990
Ensign
Jesus spoke in parables
So we could understand
He helps us in our troubles
That we will know first hand
For He draws things in the sand
He spoke of the body, too
The foot, nose, back, side, and face
He spoke of what hands can do
And someday Him, we'll embrace
We’ll witness what's pierced and trace…
The most difficult to paint
Of all the human body
The hand is hard to create
To study, capture and embody
Whether babe soft or grown knobby
To place the small in the large
Is the tenderest of sights
Love and trust are put in charge!
And one feels life's sweet delights
Oh, to have small fingers grasping tight!
The sentiments of such love
Should arouse fidelity
A babe giv'n from God above
Is a small package of fragility
And we've a responsibility
When those hands start to grow up
They must learn to be engaged
They can use a measuring cup
And serve both the young and aged
There lies love that can't be waged
Then comes the day they've grown
On each, a finger - a ring
A pledge made that is their own
Sealed as one to cling
At the alter - love's offering
Time passes... hands now of a mother
Bathing, dressing, and feeding
She will serve like no other
Her baby's ever needing
She gives training while leading
Time passes... hands now of a father
His hands support the family
He's unafraid of labor
Oft it provides, but scantily
He'll express thanks happily
In each of the parents hands
Is a sweet willingness to give,
They'll sacrifice their own plans
For each child's future yet to live
With love, their highest motive
And, amidst all these years
Have been unseen hands knocking
Ministering to tears
With or without their spotting
Available for the asking
Thomas S. Monson
"Hands", Aug 1990
Ensign
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