HANDED ON

[Would you like a look at my family, who have
some responsibility for what I have become?
First, may I tell you about some of
the things my father handed on to
me and mine?]

Safe and sure were my father's hands,
When first I walked through life.
Stern but just were my father's hands,
When I wandered into strife.
Broad and strong were my father's hands,
And skilled with the chisel and plane;
When I open the coffer he made for me,
Then I see that skill again.
Calm in prayer were my father's hands,
Folded each night by my bed,
And I knew the angels watched those hands
And banished the night's dark dread.
Always there were my father's hands,
When at times I stumbled and fell.
A broken knee or a broken heart:
Those hands could make it well.
Warm, with a tremor, my father's hands,
Round my arm on my wedding day,
And I saw the tears behind the smile,
As he waved me on my way.
Older now, my father's hands,
As he played with my eldest son,
And he showed him the ways of my own young days,
And the two of them had such fun!
Frail and thin, my father's hands,
But whimsy and wise in their giving,
As he helped to shape the skills of my sons
To handle the ways of their living.
Quiet and serene were my father's hands,
In the peaceful clasp of death,
And his hands will hold their place in my heart
Till I draw my own last breath.
Now my father's hands are not lost to me,
For I see each tall-grown son
Lead his life as his grandfather taught,
And do as he would have done.
So I thank you, Lord, for my father's hands,
That cared so dear for me.
They will work for you in your Heaven, Lord,
Safe and sure, through Eternity.
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