Whispered on the lips
Of holy ordinary
Believers
Gift of Thomas
To the doubting
By it every church
Is painted
It is the shine
On every polished pew
Incense of the sacred
Air rising
Ancient prophecy fulfilled
Blessed are they who have not seen
Written on every open heart
Each from our own agony
Reaching out to touch
The wounds of Christ
Transformed
My father’s Consecration
Loving Adoration
Etched upon this soul of mine
My Lord, and my God!
OPEN MY EYES
