For She who made my Hands so wide
As to construct the Earth --
Fertile Soil, deep Core inside
'midst Rings of Fated Birth --


As Fingers bend and Elbows bow
Small Muscles write all Life --
Together might an Army now
Script Serenity from Strife --


Dexterity, your Urgency
Marks Right in Place of Wrong --
To render This, Will moves between 
The mute Fright and a Song --


Until the Day your Hands are Mine
Beneath this blessed Dirt --
No Universe or Grand Design
Shall do a greater Work --