O Thou, who didst with love untold
Thy doubting servant chide,
Bidding the eye of sense behold
Thy wounded hands and side.

Grant us, like him, with heartfelt awe
To own Thee God and Lord,
And from this hour of darkness draw
Faith in the incarnate Word.

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

And grant that we may never dare
Thy loving heart to grieve,
But, at the last, their blessing share
Who see not, yet believe.