I looked at his hands so peacefully at rest,
Serenely folded on his quiet breast,
And prayed "Oh Lord, give him a task to do
If you would have him happy there with you--
A garden or a flower bed to tend,
A fishnet or a small child's hurt to mend.
For those dear hands could never idle be--
They worked or played--or prayed so faithfully."

I can see them round the handle of a hoe,
Or in the dirt, making his flowers grow,
Or bouncing a laughing child upon his knee,
Or holding his precious book so tenderly.

I can feel them--through a fevered night,
Or firmly guiding us on paths of right.
I want him to be happy there with you--
So give him, Lord, I pray some task to do.