Yellow, muddy, unclean hands, We thrust our hands deep, Air bubbles burp and squelch, And our faces screw into looks of disgust. But why? "From dust you came, and to dust you shall return." And did not the Lord coat His own fingers in the stuff, And bring light and vision to that poor, blinded man? From this mess came treasure, Cherished beauty, The most loved of all Creation, Comprehending all, and so too my beloved. Yellow, muddy, Hardening, solidifying, Silty slush to form, order, And statuesque beauty. Please never once feel shame, That you sprang from that viscous mixture, It was God who drove fingers deep, To collect and to find you. Providence has given you to me, A solemn charge to protect and love, What was raised into this lovely vessel, And cherish for all my days. Yellow, muddy, unclean hands, Both mine and yours enjoined, To be caked, dripping, and purified, Plunged heart-deep into this thick and most holy baptism.
