With these hands, I can carry food to the hungry and raise a fist in anger.
With these fingers, I can caress carefully or point accusingly.
My hands are miracles, flexible, strong, delicate.
They can be used to type words of hope or words of hate.
They can. They do. They shouldn’t. I know this and seek your guidance in everything my hands attempt.
May my hands be only used for good this day; for Your purposes and Your Kingdom’s benefit.