12 Poems About Hands

When you think of hands let these poems remind you that hands have many uses both positive and negative. You have children's hands vs adult hands, the hand of God vs the hand of man. Think of all the ways hands are used: helping hands, working hands, old hands, clean hands, dirty hands, lazy hands, hands that are loving and ones that are hateful. We hope these poems encourage you to use your hands in the most positive ways.

Short Poems   /   Poems Of Encouragement    /   Poems About Hands

  1. My Handprints
    Poet: Unknown

    Sometimes you get discouraged
    Because I am very small
    And always leave my fingerprints
    On furniture and walls.

    But everyday I'm growing . . .
    I'll be all grown-up someday,
    And all the tiny fingerprints
    Will surely fade away.

    So here's a real hand print
    Just so you can recall,
    Exactly how my fingers looked
    When I was very small.



  2. Clean Hands
    Poet: Florence A. Jones

    He that has kept clean hands and stainless heart.
    He that, in climbing, bore no brother down;
    Whose vision sees not God and man apart -
    He has not failed! To him the victor's crown.



  3. The Light That Is Felt
    Poet: John G. Whittier

    A tender child of summers three,
    Seeking her little bed at night,
    Paused on the dark stair timidly.
    “Oh, mother! take my hand," said she,
    “And then the dark will all be light."

    We older children grope our way
    From dark behind to dark before;
    And only when our hands we lay,
    Dear Lord, in Thine, the night is day,
    And there is darkness nevermore.

    Reach downward to the sunless days
    Wherein our guides are blind as we,
    And faith is small, and hope delays;
    Take Thou the hands of prayer we raise,
    And let us feel the light of Thee!



  4. Helping Hands
    Poet: Unknown

    I think if we reach out a helping hand
    To those who faint and falter by the way -
    If by our sympathy and kindly aid
    Some sorrowing heart finds happiness each day.

    And if we ever carry in our hands
    The mantle of sweet charity and grace
    To shield the weak and erring ones of earth
    And lift them up to a securer place,

    Then I believe if our incautious feet
    Should wander out where thorns and thistles grow,
    God still would follow us with boundless love
    And lead us where the living waters flow.



  5. Those That Do
    Poet: Ellen P. Allerton

    Beautiful hands are those that do
    Work that is earnest, brave, and true,
    Moment by moment the long day through.



  6. Hold Thou My Hands
    Poet: William Canton

    Hold Thou my hands!
    In grief and joy, in hope and fear,
    Lord, let me feel that Thou art near:
    Hold Thou my hands!

    If e’er, by doubts
    Of Thy good Fatherhood depressed,
    I cannot find in Thee my rest,
    Hold Thou my hands!

    Hold Thou my hands, -
    These passionate hands too quick to smite,
    These hands so eager for delight,
    Hold Thou my hands.

    And when, at length,
    With darkened eyes and fingers cold,
    I seek some last loved hand to hold,
    Hold Thou my hands!



  7. Oh, Lay Thy Hand In Mine, Dear
    Poet: Gerald Massey

    Oh, lay thy hand in mine, dear!
    We're growing old,
    But Time hath brought no sign, dear,
    That hearts grow cold.
    'Tis long, long since our new love
    Made life divine;
    But age enricheth true love,
    Like noble wine.

    And lay thy cheek to mine, dear,
    And take thy rest;
    Mine arms around thee twine, dear,
    And make thy nest.
    A many cares are pressing
    On this dear head,
    But Sorrow's hands in blessing
    Are surely laid.

    Oh, lean thy life on mine, dear!
    'Twill shelter thee.
    Thou wert a winsome vine, dear,
    On my young tree;
    And so, till boughs are leafless,
    And song-birds flown,
    We'll twine, then lay us, griefless,
    Together down.



  8. Things That Never Die
    by Charles Dickens

    The timid hand stretched forth to aid
    A brother in his need,
    A kindly word in grief's dark hour
    That proves a friend indeed;
    The plea for mercy, softly breathed,
    When justice threatens high
    The sorrow of a contrite heart
    These things shall never die.

    The memory of a clasping hand,
    The pressure of a kiss,
    And all the trifles, sweet and frail,
    That make up love's first bliss;
    If with a firm, unchanging faith,
    And holy trust and high,
    Those hands have clasped, those lips have met
    These things shall never die.

    Let nothing pass, for every hand
    Must find some work to do;
    Lose not a chance to waken love
    Be firm and just and true;
    So shall a light that cannot fade
    Beam on thee from on high,
    And angel voices say to thee
    These things shall never die.



  9. Clasp His Hand
    Poet: Helen Eldridge

    Dear child, dost feel too sad to pray?
    Then clasp God's hand.
    You've but to reach a wee, wee way,
    Since He's been waiting for you aye;
    He's always known you'd need, this day,
    To clasp His hand.



  10. Beautiful Hands
    Poet: Unknown

    Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
    They are neither white nor small,
    And some, I know, would scarcely think
    That they were fair at all.
    I've looked on hands, of form and hue,
    A sculptor's dream might be,
    Yet are these aged, wrinkled hands
    Most beautiful to me.

    Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
    When her heart was weary and sad,
    These patient hands kept toiling on,
    That the children might be glad.
    I often mourn when looking back
    To childhood's distant day,
    I think these hands were toiling hard
    When mine were at their play.

    Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
    They are growing feeble now,
    For time and toil have left their mark
    On heart and hand and brow,
    Alas! alas! the nearing time,
    The sad, sad day to me
    When, 'neath the daisies out of sight,
    These hands will folded be.

    But oh! beyond these shadowy lands,
    Where all is bright and fair,
    But in the city pure of God,
    Beneath the tree of life,
    Beside the stream of water clear,
    Those hands will surely bear
    The palms of victory bestowed,
    Through all the endless years.



  11. The Hand Of God
    Poet: Paul Fleming

    To see the hand of God in the present,
    and to trust the future in the hand of God,
    is the secret of peace.

    Why shouldst thou fill to-day with sorrow
    About to-morrow,
    My heart?
    One watches all with care most true,
    Doubt not that He will give thee, too
    Thy part.

    Only be steadfast; never waver
    Nor seek earth's favor
    But rest:
    Thou know'st that what God wills must be
    For all His creatures, so for thee,
    The best.



  12. Do God's Will
    Poet: Unknown

    No service in itself is small;
    None great, though earth it fill;
    But that is small that seeks its own,
    And great that seeks God's will.

    Then hold my hand, most gracious God,
    Guide all my goings still;
    And let it be my life's one aim,
    To know and do thy will.


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