These hands play the piano
They write, work, and plant
They wipe away tears and console
They bandage, wash, and feed
These hands can heal

But these hands can also hurt.

These hands inflict pain
They push, stick, and inject
They make errors, neglect, and forget
They tremble, break, and drop
These hands can betray

“Am I harming? Or am I helping?” 
Asks the missionary nurse in Africa.
“To be the hands and feet of Jesus” she prays again.

Yet she knows there is a price to bear.

There is One who can heal and never hurt 
He bore our hurt by His own hands 
He heals the harm that I brought
And He heals my own heart

My Healer and my Helper
The One whom I hurt the most.

Jehovah Rophe.