True
disciple
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.
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