Like the imprint
of my two thumbs in clay,
so you appear, my Lord,
by what you leave behind.
Disguised
in the tracery of fingerprint,
the whorls a world
of delicate, true lines,
you are revealed.
You mark me deeper still,
that imprint, too, indelible.
You say
you’d know me anywhere
by that mark—yours—
in me.
Those thumbprints
leave a trail,
like deer tracks in wet earth,
(What passed this way?)
delicate,
four-hooved, aloof,
shy of being named.
Or
like a mussel shell
pried open,
broken, free,
its heart revealed.
I am revealed, O Lord,
within your hand,
your mark in me.
—Stephanie Weller Hanson
Our Most Popular Articles of 2025
It’s been a big year for First Things. Our website was completely redesigned, and stories like the…
Our Year in Film & Television—2025
First Things editors and writers share the most memorable films and TV shows they watched this year.…
Religious Freedom Is the Soul of American Security
In the quiet sanctuary of West Point’s Old Cadet Chapel, a striking mural crowns the apse above…