In these hands of clay
muddled and confused as they may;
Still their faith rested in them
and the hands played along.
In these hands of clay
promises of heavenly beauty lay;
In scripting a wonderful life story
the hands tried being God.
In these hands of clay
dragged them on my very own way;
And when they reached the inevitable
the hands moved along.
In these hands of clay
did not the hands of almighty lay;
And when the final blow came hard
the hands felt small.
In these hands of clay
tearful and regretful are now they;
For the mess added in their lives
the hands are sorry now.
