Hands Like Mine

These hands been in water cold as stone. Scrubbed the dirt down to the bone. Held a fever, stitched a seam. Built a family from a Dream. They don’t shine, They ain’t soft or fine. They’ve cracked like roads over time. But they’ve fed mouths and wiped tears dry. And held the weight when no one tried. Hands like mine Don’t make the news. But they’ve paid the price And walked in shoes. That carried love and held back pain. Never asked To be repaid. Calloused, tired, Still divine. There’s a grace in hands like mine. These Hands never worked to rest. Folded prayers inside my chest. They’ve broken bread And broke down walls. Gave when I Had none at all. You won’t see rings Or painted grace. But they’ve touched every sacred place. Bent with the work But held the line. Blessed be These hands of mine. Hands like mine Don’t write the songs. But they’ve righted So many wrongs. Lifted hearts And dug down roots. Carried sorrow In work boots. They ain’t gentle But they shine. Oh Lord, these hands like mine.