than just a work of are, They are the soul's creation of a deeply thankful heart. They are a priceless masterpiece that love alone could paint, And they reveal the selflessness of an unheralded saint. These hands so scarred and toilworn, Tell the story of a man Who sacrificed his talent in accordance with God's plan. For in God's plan are many things man cannot understand, But we must trust God's judgment and be guided by His Hand. Sometimes He asks us to give up our dreams of happiness, Sometimes we must forego our hopes of fortune and success, Not all of us can triumph or rise to heights of fame, And many times what should be ours, goes to another name. But he who makes a sacrifice, so another may succeed, Is indeed a true disciple of our blessed Saviour's creed. For when we give ourselves away in sacrifice and love, We are laying up rich treasures in God's kingdom up above. And hidden in gnarled, toilworn hands is the truest art of living, Achieved alone by those who've learned the victory of giving. For any sacrifice on earth made in the dear Lord's name, Assures the giver of a place in Heaven's Hall of Fame. And who can say with certainty Where the greatest talent lies, Or who will be the greatest in our heavenly Father's eyes! And who can tell with certainty in the heavenly Father's sight who's entitled to the medals and who's the hero of the fight. By Helen Steiner Rice |