Life's hands

We walk through life,  Not alone,
First holding Mothers hand.
We give it up and pass it on,
To teachers soft command-
Then comes a day in each one’s life,
We look up with a smile;
' Teacher, Mother, let me go,
I’ll walk alone awhile.'
We take those steps, we wobble some,
A little scared, it’s true.
' Teacher, Mother, don’t help now.
I want to walk like you.'
And then in turn, we take a hand,
Fingers small in ours.
We lift them up, we hold them tight,
To help them reach the stars.
Another time soon will come, not so far away,
when we will need the help again
to get us through the day.
Then, at the end, we'll drop those hands,
to reach with ours once more-
'God, My Father, take me home,'
softly we'll implore.
Then our hands are taken, 
we are lifted to the sky,
and hand in hand with angels
up in heaven we will fly.