Make my arms strong for my task. These little lives are the weightiest thing I have ever held. My hands are full, and some days weary, but let me hold on to love even if all else drops. Make these arms patient and kind. Help them to bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things.
Your outstretched arm never fails, so I lean in when mine go limp, leaning on an everlasting strength. Though I am weak, I will not lose heart, for what I hold here is a glorious weight. I will stretch these arms out yet again and let the little children come. Love lift us all.