Courageous master of the awkward question,
You spoke the words the others dared not say
And cut through their evasion and abstraction.
Oh, doubting Thomas, father of my faith,
You put your finger on the nub of things
We cannot love some disembodied wraith,
But flesh and blood must be our king of kings.
Your teaching is to touch, embrace, anoint,
Feel after Him and find Him in the flesh.
Because he loved your awkward counter-point
The Word has heard and granted you your wish.
Oh, place my hands with yours, help me divine
The wounded God whose wounds are healing mine.
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