Why Fold Your Hands When You Pray. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Little hands, they like to play,
Folding helps them stay that way.
Still and quiet, eyes kept low,
Easier for all young thoughts to flow.

But God, He sees beyond the form,
He knows the feelings, safe and warm,
A heavy heart, or joy so bright,
He hears you morning, noon, and night.

Some kneel in dust, a humble plea,
Some lift their hands up, wild and free.
Some stand and speak, with heads held high,
Each heart's desire ascends the sky.

You drive your car, a whispered word,
A silent prayer, it will be heard.
You work your task, your fingers fly,
And in your heart, a gentle cry.

It's not the hands, or how they lie,
But an open heart that reaches high.
So pray with peace, in any way,
God listens close, to what you say.

T.M.Solvang