I stitch, I point, I tremble, I sing. I mend torn cloth, guide the lost, and whisper when you’re low on fuel. Sharp, restless, small, I pierce before I heal. Who am I?

I appear in a compass, but I am not a way. You might see me in gauge to help tell you things.

I can move through water, but I cannot swim. People use me to hit things.

I have a face, but no eyes. Hands, but no feet. I started in towers, halls, and then walls And my sound can compare to a beat.

I’m not a woman though I hold many rings. I’m pretty round, not from this earth. I am also considered a giant. Who am I?