When I look at my hands, what do I see?
I see tools that are washed, that are clean.
Yet what have I done with these tools I possess?
For another, have I done anything?

Have I served a brother that needed my help?
Have I gone out and done a good deed?
Have I helped out a soul that was crying for help?
Have I comforted someone in need?

Did I mourn with a sister who cried out in tears?
Did I wipe all the tears from her face?
With these hands I've been given have I done any good?
Or have I done nothing and found my disgrace?

When I look at HIS hands, what do I see?
I see hands that are rough, that are worn.
Yet those hands that are loving endured to the end-
Even when nailed and torn.

I see hands that healed lepers, that dried many tears
I see hands that turned water to wine,
I see hands that served every person they met,
I see hand I would liken to mine.

I see hands that have loved, that saved every soul,
They are hands that from every pore bled,
I see hands that made blind men to look up and see
I see hands that 5,000 men fed.

When I look at those hands that were nailed to the cross
And I see what those hands did for me
I thank my dear Brother, and look at my hands-
For his hands, are what my hands should be.