Classic Poem

Ah ! Thomas, wherefore wouldst thou doubt,
And put the Lord in pain,
And mad'st his wounds to spout
Anew from ev'ry vein?

Lo! those of God are blessed most,
Which, simple and serene,
Believe the Holy Ghost,
That operates unseen.

This is that great and prior proof
Of God and of his Son,
Beneath whose sacred roof
To-day the duty's done.

Tho' seventeen hundred years remote,
We can perform our part,
And to the Lord devote
The tribute of our heart.

O Lord, the slaves of sin release,
Their ways in Christ amend,
Our faith and hope increase,
Our charities extend.

Make thou our alter'd lives of use
To all the skirts around,
And purge from each abuse
Thy church, so much renown'd.

Enlarge from Mammon's spells her priests,
And from all carnal cares,
And bid to ghostly feasts,
To pure cherubic airs.

Thy people in that choir employ
Whose business is above,
In gratitude and joy,
In wonder, praise, and love.