They didn’t know You from Adam –
those who hanged You from a cross,
but Thomas fingered Your wounds,
made sure You were
Who You said You were.
I would touch Your wounds, Lord ... if I might,
to know the depths of Your sacrifice,
thrust my hand into Your side –
to explore the nature
of Your compassion and surrender,
but I haven’t the heart of a true disciple.
I garland Your stone, praise You
to high heaven, endure
the small prices You ask me to pay ...
You, knowing and forgiving the fragility
and cowardice of a heart so shallowly pledged.
That’s why we call You Father of Mercy.
O child of God, ... whosoever will, let him come
and take freely the water of Life.
(from A Jewel in the Dust)