A Doxology for a Body

Now to him who comes to us
Who was born as we all are
Whose hands worked splintered wood
Whose head plunged beneath the waters 
And gasped for breath as the dove descended 
Who lived in anger, grief, and hunger
But also in joy, fellowship, and peace
He who washed feet 
And welcomed ointment to be broken over his own
To him who suffered unto death
And gasped his second first breath in the stillness of the tomb
Whose scars stayed 
So that we could touch them for ourselves
To him be all glory, love, and devotion 
Forever and ever