My hands  Thou shall move them,

be knitted in a caring handful,

that shall collect tears

and pains and smiles,

and like incense, like a prayer

to rise to Thee.

Do not take into account that they are

made from soil

with warts and wounds.

Thou are to inspire them,

to portray with reverence

Thy divine form

and the Virgin Mary’s image

and of all the Saints.

To count for me with accuracy

each brushstroke

that Thee have commissioned me to put

inside the world’s canvas.

And deign O Lord,

and the insanity

to sign and to please myself

“by the hand of ... me”,

whilst in reality they are all

works of thy hand.

G.D.