A BABY'S HANDS

God made the rivers, the hills, and the seas,

God made the flowers, the grass, and the trees;

God made the clouds, and the waves, silver-crested,

Then God made the hands of a baby — and rested!

How did He make them? Well, nobody knows —

Some say He dreamed of the bud of a rose,

And that He woke as the dawn swept away

Night in the dancing pink promise of day.

Maybe He thought of the light of a star,

( That's why He made them as soft as they are! )

Maybe He watched while a new butterfly,

Light as a sunbeam, went fluttering by.

Maybe He walked in a garden, dew-kissed,

That's why He made them as frail as the mist —

Then as He leaned from His heaven above,

God made them strong as His greatest gift — LOVE!

God made the mountains — we wonder at these —

God made the splendor of sunsets and trees;

God made vast mines where a world's wealth is piled,

Then God made the hands of a baby — and smiled!