_"When I heard the women wailing I looked down the street and saw a crowd gathering.  Somebody called that a boy had been hit.  John and I grabbed a blanket and ran to the scene.  It was little David Anthony Lee, a boy in our pre-school program -- so little.  He had lost a great deal of blood and was lying in it -- half on the pavement and half in the dirt.  There was a large hole in his head with three or four pieces of skull embedded in it.  His cap was in the middle of the street.  A large elderly woman (his grandmother) dropped by his side wailing -- almost as a threat -- "So young."  A few women collapsed and had to be helped away.  And then everythin was quiet, except for occasional sobs.  It had been a hit and run murder.

Now there is another little boy who comes to the Center, Timmy Chapel.  And Timmy is the one who gave me the incentive to write JUST A HAND TO HOLD.  I tried to write a song about David Anthony but I couldn't.  But the feeling I have about David is in the song.  You see, it is Timmy who always wanted to walk with me and hold my hand and be pushed on the merry-go-round.  His is the face that is like a jewel -- and He is the one who has about as much chance to make it in this world as did David Anthony Lee.  In some weird way I thought that by writing this song it might help give him a chance David Anthony did not have."
- Mark Spoelstra

He was, he was a friend of mine
He was, he was a friend of mine
Now he's dead and gone
This morning my be friend
Lay still in his bed
His face like a jewel
And he was dead.

He was, he was only six years old
He was, he was only six years old
So I'd been told
He liked to play games
Push me on the swings
Push me on the merry-go-round
Go round and round.

Swing me, oh, swing me - swing me all up and down
Spin me, oh spin me - spin me around and around
Till my feet touch the ground
He never was afraid
Cause he was brave and bold
And the only thing he ever asked for
Was a hand to hold.

It makes no difference where he's from or where he's bound
And it makes less difference if he's lost of been found.
He's dead and gone.
But there is no power
Anywhere in this land
Like the voice that used to say
Will you hold my hand.

There is a voice that rings loud throughout this land
There is a boice that speaks for the black and the tan,
And for all of man
It's young and it's old
It's brave and it's bold
And it can't be bought or sold
-- Just a hand to hold.



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