God has so many million hands,
of ev'ry size and color;
Sometimes they fold in peaceful prayer,
or reach out to each other;
  All God's hands.

Sometimes they're bare, sometimes they're gloved,
Depending on the weather;  They tie our shoes,
to walk the paths of righteousness together;
  All God's hands.

He tells us, "Build on solid rock,
and not on sand that's shifting";
And with our hands at work for Him,
we feel our spirits lifting;
  All God's hands
This is by far the "youngest" thing I have written.  Anybody out
     there direct "Sunbeam Choir" at church?
Dean Elkins, Frayed Train Music,  c.2002
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