The Hand of You

Sometimes when shadows cross my path
As shadows sometime do,
I reach my hand across the mist
And touch the hand of you.
I know the sun is in the sky,
I know true love is true –
But oh! it comforts in the dark
To touch the hand of you.

Through all the silence of the years,
Through friendships old and new,
The dearest memory of my life
I touched the hand of you.
So clouds and sorrows come along,
We all must have a few –
But through them all, please God let me –
Still touch the hand of you.

Sent in by Homer Ashby, R. 3, Mane, Ok.

From the Reverse Side of the Clipping:

… young child. Then, too, I recall an
incident that portended serious consequences
which doubtless would have
ended in tragedy had it not have been
for my stepfather. A boy who was riding
with one of the emigrants was accused
of taking some money that was
missed from one of the wagons, and
immediately he was jerked up and
hanged. My stepfather interceded,
pleading for time to see what developments
would occur, and he was finally
cut down before he was dead. Afterward
it happened that the money was
discovered wedged tightly in a crack
of the wagon bed, where it had been …

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