These things did Thomas count as real: The warmth of blood, the chill of steel, The grain of wood, the heft of stone, The last frail twitch of blood and bone.

His brittle certainties denied That one could live when one had died, Until his fingers read like Braille The markings of the spear and nail.

May we, O God, by grace believe And, in believing, still receive The Christ Who held His raw palms out And beckoned Thomas from his doubt.

Thomas H. Troeger, 1984 Psalter Hymnal of the Christian Reformed Church