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Godhead here in hiding, Whom I do adore,
Mask'd by these bare shadows, shape and nothing more;
See, Lord, to Thee subject, low lies my whole heart,
For to truly see Thee wholly fails its art.
On the cross Thy Godhead shunn'd the view of men;
Here Thy very manhood steals from human ken;
Both are my confession, both are my belief,
And I pray the pray'r of the dying thief.
I am not like Thomas, wounds I can not see,
But I plainly call Thee Lord and God as he;
Deeper be my holding of this faith each day,
Make me stronger love Thee, hope in all Thy ways.
Jesus, Whom I look at shrouded here below,
I beseech Thee, send me what I long for so:
Some day to gaze on Thee face to face in light,
And be blest forever with Thy glory's sight.