Wash Your Hands

Who hasn’t heard their father’s call

at suppertime to children small?

“Please wash your hands of all you’ve done,

and quickly now, the meal’s begun.”

And too, from early on we learned

our father’s love could not be earned—

Accorded us through dirt and deeds,

          he gave us that which filled our needs.

And so we grew to maids and men,

          and knowing where our hands had been.

No comfort in the brightest dawn—

no parents now to help us on.

And so we seek beneath the sun

          to wash our hands of all we’ve done,

But higher must we look at last

          to cleanse our souls of sin now passed.

Our Father’s love is still as free

          as when we sat upon his knee.

Yes, wash your hands of all you’ve done,

          then come and dine with God’s own Son.

                                                M. Gibbs