These are my hands
Once they were tiny and perfect,
They reached out to grasp my mother’s finger;
As I grew they became slender and trusting
Holding hands with my parents
With friends and family;
Once some years ago now I looked at my hands
Pink and young and smooth
And, looking at my mother’s I asked myself:
‘Will mine look like that, one day?’
So, now I know,
Yes they do!
I didn’t notice it happening,
But wrinkled and work worn
My hands have served me well.
Have they served you well
We bring our hands to your Table, Loving Lord,
We cup them to receive Your Bread,
We reach out for the wine
And we give thanks.
Around Your Table the hands are
Young and fresh,
Gnarled and worn,
In pain and disfigured,
But it doesn’t matter,
For you bless our hands as we receive of You
And send us out to take that blessing to those we meet.
Hands of friendship and hospitality,
To receive and to give,
To create and to be still,
To build and mend.
Jesus Your hands stretched out
Upon the Cross,
Encompassing our lives;
Blessing as you sacrificed your self.
So may our hands reach out
Stretching into our communities.
Amen Hazel Parsons
Reading Luke 7:11-17
SthF 566 Take my life and let it be