| There’s a mother on her knees | 
| Somewhere in San Francisco | 
| Looking up and begging please | 
| God, do not forget me now | 
| Her baby’s on machines | 
| 'Cause his heart can not keep beating | 
| And she knows what desperate means | 
| 'Cause the clock is ticking down, down | 
| And hope rushed in like waves | 
| That someone might just save the day | 
| And if heaven’s just a prayer away | 
| Then why she cries, would God not change things? | 
| It may be miles and miles, before the journey’s clear | 
| There may be rivers, may be oceans of tears | 
| But the very hand that shields your eyes from understanding | 
| Is the hand that will be holding you for miles | 
| There’s another mother on her knees | 
| Somewhere in San Francisco | 
| Looking up and begging please | 
| God, do not forget me now | 
| It happened like a dream | 
| He was laughing, he was running | 
| And she heard the sirens scream | 
| When her little boy fell down, down | 
| And she had never known | 
| The agony of letting go but | 
| A few miles down the road | 
| His heart would find a baby boy | 
| Just in time | 
| It may be miles and miles, before the journey’s clear | 
| There may be rivers, may be oceans of tears | 
| But the very hand that shields your eyes from understanding | 
| Is the hand that will be holding you for miles | 
| One moment someone whispers «thank you» | 
| Just then another heart cries «How could you?» | 
| When Jesus, who sees us, He says | 
| «I hear you, I’m near you» | 
| And the very hand that shields your eyes from understanding | 
| Is the hand that will be holding you for miles |