Poems (Cromwell)/Testimony of Hands

by Gladys Cromwell

TESTIMONY OF HANDS

Is every day the judgment day?
 A thousand mortals lift on high
A throng of hands that plead and pray;
 Beneath a space of quiet sky,
 Their several gestures testify.

Oh, mark the wistful hand that holds
 A sorrow in its upturned palm;
The gentle hand that firmly folds
 Across the breast to make it calm!
 Oh, mark the hand by which the balm

Of youth was scattered, eloquent
 As the grey leaf upon the tree
When summer's mellow joy is spent!
 Above that throng of hands, oh, see
 The Hand that plies eternity!