Oh, I think I'll end with this poem called "The Snowstorm."
This has been a very New Testament kind of night, guys.
Thanks for sticking with me.
I know it's not always what you expect.
But there's a great story.
I love these stories, as you can tell.
I love them as archetypical stories of our own psyches.
There's the great story of when after Jesus died
and after his friends started seeing Him again, one of them
said, I don't believe it.
I won't believe it until I put my hand in His wounds.
So there's a line in here that's quoted from that great story.
And this is this poem called "The Snowstorm."
"I walked down toward the river, and the deer
had left tracks deep as half my arm that
ended in a perfect hoof.
And the 'shump, shump' sound my boots made walking
made the silence loud.
And when I turned back toward the great house,
I walked beside the deer tracks again.
And when I came near the feeder, little tracks of the birds
on the surface of the snow I'd broken through.
'Put your finger here and see my hands,
then bring your hand and put it into my side.'
I put my hand down into the deer track
and touched the bottom of an invisible hoof,
then my finger in the little mark of the J."
Thank you.
[APPLAUSE]