She had his heart. She had his soul. His thoughts were always with her. What had he left to offer her, To make her see he loved her? He could not claim some special skill or art no other proffered. No charm, no grace, no handsome face, no talent as a lover. So he did offer what he had, to show he did adore her. He offered her his shaking hands, and spoke these soft words to her. I give my hands to build with love, to make of life some beauty, To build a cradle and a bed, and walls providing safety, To hammer, saw, to paint and nail, and mount some pretty pictures, To build a home to keep us warm in storms throughout the winter. I give my hands to cook and sew, to help to raise a family, To till the earth, and tend the hearth, to meet each morning gladly, To do the things that must be done, to make a daily living, To do the things that just are fun, and feel the joy in giving. I give my hands to serve your needs, to do what e’er may please you, To touch your hair, to stroke your face, to share my passion with you, I give my hands to dry your tears, and bring you back to smiling, To let you know I share your fears of living and of dying. I give my hands to worship God, to write of life lived sweetly, To write a prayer, a poem, a song, of thanks for love and beauty, To give us joy and give us peace, to ease some pain and sorrow, To thank the Lord for knowing you, this day and every morrow. I give my hands to join to yours, in love and faith abiding, To feel your touch and give you mine, hand in hand delighting. Hands so joined will never part, will always work together, For by my life, my very soul, my hands are yours forever. She heard his plea. She smiled at him. Her thoughts were truly of him. She took what he had offered her, And gave her own hands to him.