Hands

Hands, strong hands that hold me tight
That because of my weaknesses help me fight
Hands, strong hands that shelter me from harm
From the storms, and the fire, and the floods that come
Hands, gentle hands that guide me back to the path
when I wander from it, and the ground beneath become rough
Hands, gentle hands that hold onto me with love undeserved
That feed me when I hunger, and water me when I thirst
Hands, firm hands that chasten and correct but never hurt
So that one day I can be free, and fly as high as a bird
Hands, firm hands that grasp mine tightly as tight can be
That work from behind the scenes, for no one but me to see