Blessed Hands

(C. Woodsmith) Bending over, pickin’ stones They grow with every fallow If I had the time I’d rest my bones In the water And I’ve laid many a tear on this land And I’ve buried them with my children So when I die won’t you lay me in the clay Right here, where I can hold them If you come by the day, If you come by the night You'll see I'm not ready to give up this fight If you come by my door, you’ll find it open And my blessed hands will be unbroken I’ve seen many seasons pass in this valley Rollin like the thunder And of all the tools I’ve ever know These hands hold my spirit and wonder They’re callused and stained and they show the time Not the future but the past On them I see the fight that remains And I'm ready for the test If you come by the day, If you come by the night You'll see I'm not ready to give up this fight If you come by my door, you’ll find it open And my blessed hands will be unbroken