No Hands But Ours

"Shortly after the culmination of World War II, a devastated city in England began its heartbreaking and wearying work, of restoration. In the old city square had stood a large statue of Jesus Christ with His hands outspread in an attitude of invitation. On the pedestal were carved the words “Come Unto Me.”

In the process of the restoration of the statue with the aid of master artists and sculptors, the figure was eventually reassembled except for the hands of which no fragments could be discovered anywhere in the surrounding rubble. Someone made the suggestion that the artist would have to fashion new hands since the former hands could not be found.

Later come a public protest, couched in the words, “NO, leave Him without hands!” So today in the square of that English city the restored stature of Christ stands without hands and on the base of it are carved the words, “Christ has no hands but ours.”

My Sister's Hands

My sister’s hands are fair and white. My sister’s hands are dark.

My sister’s hands are touched with age, or by the years unmarked

And often when I pray for strength to live as He commands,

The Father sends me sustenance in my sister’s hands.

My sister’s hands are lines and worn with burdens of their own,

And yet I know that should I mourn, I need not weep alone.

And often as I seek His grace to lighten life’s demands,

The Father sends me solace borne in my sister’s hands.

My sister’s hands, compassion’s tools that teach my own their art

Witnesses of charity within the human heart,

Bearers of the Savior’s love and mercy unto man,

I have felt the Master’s touch, in my sister’s hands.

-Sally DeFord