The Beautiful Hands of a Priest

The Beautiful Hands of a Priest

(This poem was copied off a 1934 picture and was done in beautiful calligraphy. The poem had no signature. Perhaps, someone out there knows who wrote it.)

We need them in life’s early morning,
We need them again at it’s close,
We feel their warm clasp of true friendship;
We seek them when tasting life’s woes.
When we come to this world we are sinful, The greatest as well as the least
And the hand that makes us pure as angels
Is the beautiful hand of a priest.
At the altar each day we behold them,
And the hands of a king on his throne
Are not equal to them in their greatness,
Their dignity stands all alone;
For there in the stillness of morning
Ere the sun has emerged from the east,
There God rests between the pure fingers
Of the beautiful hands of a priest.
And when we are tempted and wander
To pathways of shame and sin,
Tis the hands of a priest will absolve us
Not once, but again and again.
And when we are taking life’s partner
Other hands may prepare us a feast;
But the hand that will bless and unite us
Is the beautiful hand of a priest.
God bless them and keep them all holy
For the Host which their fingers caress
What can a poor sinner do better
Then praise Him, Who chose thee to bless?
When the death dews on our eyelids are falling
May our courage and strength be increased
By seeing raised o’er us in blessing
The beautiful hand of a priest.

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