To Touch His Hand

I have seen many men as they lay and die
Sat with the tortured mind and humble soul,
I have dances with the devil under moonlight sky,
On the wide wide fields and mountains of life. I have worn the white coat of what is right
Without one thought of what might be wrong,
Dreaming of the moment my heart would be set free
And leave the path of hate pain has brought to me. Now as the last years of life release my pride
I feel no pain as my soul must cry out,
Now I search for love and the welcome hand
And pray that peace might touch every man. In the wind swept space where eagles fly
Some day up there I know I will find
High among the stars and burning blue
The face of my God, and touch his hand.

by Joe Staker

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