How close must be the coast of Malabar!
        I almost smell its blossoms and its spice!
        The captain says by now it can’t be far.
        For me to go there means no sacrifice.

        What if in India I end my days,
        And never see again fair Israel?
        Christ’s Holy Spirit always with me stays,
        And helps me bravely God’s good news to tell!

        I haven’t always known such faith, you know;
        Suspicious, gloomy skeptic -- that was me!
        A loner, never daring to let show
        The pain inside that wouldn’t let me be.

        They dubbed me “Thomas,” “Didymus,” “The Twin.”
        I never told them of the rage that burned
        My soul and body, seared me deep within
        Each time I heard this nickname that I spurned!

        Who is my twin, you ask? -- How few folks know!
        Indeed, it grieves me even now to say,
        Although so many years have had their flow,
        Since my twin brother Jarib went away.

        Devoutly Hebrew was our family;
        In synagogue our father led each prayer.
        Jarib and I grew up in Galilee,
        And studied Torah with the utmost care.

        My brother was more talented than I
        In speech, in school, in sports -- indeed, in all;
        And that is why he caught the Romans’ eye,
        Who bade him join them, leave his Jewish thrall.

        And, flattered, Jarib did:  forsook our Law
        And turned to Gentile idols, pagan games,
        To baths, gymnasia, theaters; in awe
        He held all Roman customs, ways, and aims.

        Our outraged father faced him, cursed him, cried:
        “No son of mine will our faith so disgrace!”
        “I hate your Jewish God!” Jarib replied.
        “His mark upon my flesh I would erase!

        Our father gasped and clutched his breast, decreed:
        “Get out! You’re not my son!  Now leave this place!
        A Roman pig you have become indeed!”
        Since then I’ve never seen my brother’s face.

        My father tore his clothes, sang funeral chants.
        “Jarib is dead!” he cried, “Now let us mourn!”
        My brother’s banishment was like a lance
        That pierced me, doomed me, made my own heart torn.

        “I must atone for Jarib,” then I vowed.
        “I’ll make it up to Father -- I’ll become
        The most observant Jew who’s ever bowed
        In synagogue or temple or in home!”

        I learned the Torah, led my class, and soon
        Impressed the rabbi with my intellect.
        In time I joined the Pharisees -- a boon
        To any man who badly seeks respect.

        Within a year my broken father died;
        Jarib’s desertion left him frail and sad.
        I drowned myself in studies, in my pride;
        The grief soon nearly drove my mother mad.

        Yet still within me all was gloom and doubt --
        Yes, even when the Master came along
        And called, “Come follow me and be about
        The business of God’s Kingdom, and right wrong!”

        I gladly joined with Jesus, like the rest,
        And hung upon his every deed and word;
        Yet deep within my heart still lay a nest
        Of worries, questions, rumors that I’d heard.

        “Our Didymus!  Our Twin!” -- my nickname stuck
        Among the Lord’s disciples, like the rest.
        They never knew the pain with which it struck
        My heart each time I heard it, even in jest.

        To them I was the realist -- yes, the bore,
        Who dashed cold water on each hope and dream.
        I seemed to walk alone, aloof, therefore --
        And never quite a part of Christ’s close team.
       
        I never shall forget the time when he
        Received the messengers dispatched with speed
        By those two sisters in mean Bethany:
        “Our Lazarus is ill!  Come quickly!  Heed!”

        At first I thought our Lord was scared to go,
        For Bethany lay by Jerusalem,
        Where recently his foes picked stones to throw
        And kill him for his strong, frank words to them.

        But after two days Jesus cried, “Let’s go!
        Now Lazarus is dead, but you shall see
        The glory of the Lord and what a blow
        God can inflict on death in Bethany!”

        With horror the disciples cried, “Oh no!
        Your enemies await us, don’t you see?”
        Just then I stood and bellowed, “Let us go!
        It’s true we’ll die with him, but let it be!”

        In cold alarm our muted band set out,
        For Lazarus was now but stinking clay.
        In Bethany the wails, the mourners’ shout
        Recalled for me when Jarib went away.

        I closely looked at Jesus to discern
        That tears flowed down the Savior’s face as well;
        “He feels our pain,” I marveled, “doesn’t spurn
        The griefs within us that can make life hell!”

        But then our weeping Lord approached the tomb--
        And shocked me by his call, “Remove the stone!”
        “Unclean!” I cried, “To touch dead things means doom!
        The Law says wash, and such a breach bemoan!”
               
        “Come, Lazarus, come out!” Christ boomed; by now
        I’d fallen to the ground in sickly faint.
        The dead man stood; they took from off his brow
        The bandages that held him in restraint!

        Just then I realized Jesus was God’s Son --
        Messiah, Savior, hope for all the race!
        But still I didn’t know him as the one
        To give me strength my agony to face.

    
        The night before his dreadful death we were
        At table in Jerusalem’s upper room.
        “You know where I now go,” he did aver.
        “We don’t know, Lord!” I answered in my gloom.

        “Why, Didymus, you know that I’m the way,
        The truth, the life, the gate to God’s own heart!”
        I shook my head, bewildered, dared not say
        That pain and doubt within drew me apart.

        Next day began his torment, death, disgrace;
        In tears I watched nails pierce his hands and feet,
        The long, sharp spear his body then debase.
        I fled, my faith completely in defeat.

        In bitter grief I hid alone; my trust
        Had vanished like the fog in Kidron Vale;
        I couldn’t eat or drink, though knew I must,
        Lest woe o’ertake me, death my soul impale!

        At last they found me -- Jesus' friends -- and cried,
        “Why, Didymus, Christ is alive!  Believe!”
        I couldn’t grasp their words, although I tried.
        “We’ve seen him!  You come, too, and Christ receive!”

        “Get out!” I screamed.  “Leave me alone!  Too much!
        I’ve suffered more than any mortal should!
        I won’t believe unless I really touch
        His hideous wounds, as if I really could!”

        They left me; for a week I stayed alone,
        Gave vent to all my sickening despair.
        At last I sought once more Christ’s very own,
        And in the upper room I found them there.

        They all embraced me, called me “Twin” no more,
        And prayed to God to comfort my distress.
        Just then the risen Lord stepped through the door;    
        “Shalom!” he breathed, “God’s glorious peace now bless!”

        “You, Thomas, come you here!” he looked at me.
        And put your fingers on these prints, believe.
        And touch my wounded side here; you can see
        Your doubts all vanish; and true faith receive.”

        “My Lord!  My God!” I cried, and fell down prone,
        “You are alive!  You’ve conquered death and hell!”
        He stooped to lift me, and the griefs I’d known
        That very moment from my heart all fell.

        Do you ache, too, my friend, deep down inside,
        Where no one else can see the hurts you bear?
        Then do like me -- take time to come aside,
        And view the Savior’s wounds, and touch them there.

        He took your sorrows on himself, you know --
        Each one, indeed, the heavy and the small;
        His cross and empty tomb mean every foe
        That holds you down before his might shall fall!

        His living presence brings you peace and love,
        Despite all disappointment, sickness, pain.
        And now he makes for you a home above,
        Where you shall evermore enjoy his reign.

        Yes, from that moment when I touched Christ’s skin,
        His close disciples, viewing me, all say,
        “He looks like Jesus!  He could be his twin!”
        I always blush to hear them speak that way.

        “A twin to Jesus? -- How can that be so?”
        They answer, “Thomas, like him you knew pain
        So deep it was the devil’s mortal blow --
        And yet God’s power has made you live again!”

        So now I stand here on this pitching boat
        To take the news of Christ to Malabar;
        He’s freed me from my gloom -- and, friend, please note:
        He’ll do the same for you, who’ere you are!

        Ah!  What’s that on the skyline?  Can it be?
        It is! -- A strip of beach and green palm trees!
        “Land ho!  Land ho!” the sailors cry, and me? --
        I fall before the Savior on my knees.

        You’ve brought me, Christ, to Malabar at last!
        And now I know your strength and peace within.
        You’ll stay with me, and use me, hold me fast,
        For by your grace, you’ve made me your own twin!