1 O Thou, Who didst, with love untold,
Thy doubting servant chide,
And bad'st the eye of sense behold
Thy wounded hands and side;

2 Grant us, like him, with heartfelt awe,
To own Thee God and Lord,
And from this hour of darkness draw
A fuller faith's reward.

3 And while that wondrous record now
Of unbelief we hear,
Oh, let us only lowlier bow
In self-distrusting fear;

4 And pray that we may never dare
Thy loving heart to grieve,
But at the last their blessings share
Who see not, yet believe!

Amen.