Hands--A prayer of Moses

I lift my hands to you Lord,

You are my dwelling place. You are my home. From everlasting to everlasting, You are God.

My home has been here for as long as I have been here. And it may still be here when I am gone. But it will no longer be my home, then. It may no longer be my home tomorrow. And even I may outlast its stay here on earth. But, You Lord, are forever. From before you created the mountains, the earth and the universe, You are God. My home is in you, for you are eternal life. In you, I have eternal life.

If my life were one day in your eyes, tell me Lord, it is morning or evening? You say in the morning grass flourishes and sprouts anew, but in the evening it fades and withers away. Am I flourishing, Lord? Or am I withering away?

In my sin there is no life. Only death and decline. In my sin I rot like a dying flower. I might live to be seventy or eighty years old but my life will have been spent laboring, trying to survive. I will suffer sadness, exhaustion, hunger, heart ache and in the end it will seem as if I had merely sighed while my life had gone by.

So, teach me to number my days that I may present to you a heart of wisdom. Satisfy me in the morning with your lovingkindness, that I may sing for joy and be glad all my days. For every day that I have suffered and seen the wickedness of this world, make me glad.

Show me your work and your majesty and your favor. Confirm for me the work of my hands. With what, Lord, shall I do with my hands?