Her hands are always busy, Working for the Lord. Her hands they often open, The Spirit’s mighty sword. Her hands are ever doing, Deeds of giving grace. Such ready happy helpers, To match her smiling face. Her hands are never idle, Lest Satan tempt her sore. Her hands are ever ready, To greet Christ at the door. Her hands they sometimes tire, At end of hectic day. But then she rests a moment, And folds them up to pray. Her hands they show her faith, In every move she makes. They’ll keep her heading upwards, Until in Heaven she wakes. Andrew H. Ellis 11.11.07 Copyright © 2007