He explored the skin where my hand had struck him.

His hand struck the table, but not with much force.

And when he hit the steps his hand struck the face.

Then its left hand struck my head and I fell.

The hand struck the back of the old man behind them.

Abruptly, a hand struck his shoulder, turned him to the side.

A hand came out of the darkness and struck him across the mouth.

I lack A hand for mine to grasp and strike with.

It will look as if the hand of God has struck the king down.

I feel as if my own hand might fly up and strike me.