Mother's Hands

Not because of gold or silver
Not because of jeweled bands
Not because they’re soft and perfect
Do I love my mother’s hands
But because these hands once held me
Tenderly close to her breast
And because these hands would point me
To the path she knew was best

Cho. Mother’s hands so gladly labored
Mother’s hands so seldom still
Never seeking her own favor
Giving always her free will
But the thing of greatest beauty
As she tended to each care
Was her source of strength for duty
Mother’s hands were hands of prayer

Mother’s hands would clap to praise me
For a good deed I had done
Mother’s hands were there to save me
When my deeds had hurt someone
And my mother’s hands would teach me
What is right and what is good
Mother’s hands would always reach me
When no other hand e’er could

Mother’s hands so full of power
When her load was hard to bear
Even in life’s darkest hour
Mother’s hands would fold in prayer
Oh, no matter where I travel
Or how great the sights or grand
There is none to make me marvel
Like my mother’s praying hands

Praying hands can reach her children
When they’ve gone so far away
Mother knows that God will reach them
As she folds her hands to pray
Gracious Father, up in Heaven
Bless each mother everywhere
In each country, tribe or nation
Bless the hands, the hands of prayer

All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin