For it seemed that the greatness of God so far surpassed the mental powers of His handiwork, that however far the limited mind of main might strain in the hazardous effort to define Him, the gap was not lessened between the finite nature which struggled and the boundless infinity which lay beyond its ken…Though the splendour of His eternal glory overtax our mind’s best powers, it cannot fail to see that He is beautiful.
(Hilary of Poitiers, De Trinitate)
For we see in life the beauty,
Hear in birds’ voices the song,
See in this earth His footstool,
And know that He is good.
Though we long in our minds to know Him
And long in our hearts to grasp,
Though our lives reach out to eternity
Our hands cannot touch its depth.
Yet the Infinite came to our smallness;
The Word-Was-God took on flesh.
The Immortal in whom all was made
Came to His own and lived.
And we in our smallness don’t see Him;
His own, whom He knew, knew Him not.
Yet the wonder our souls feel at glory
Can be cast at His glorious feet.
For heaven’s His, and earth His footstool,
And His feet came and walked among us,
Infinity into our finitude,
Glory beyond sight shown to us.
The truth explodes all our boundaries;
Its beauty disrupts our small lives.
Yet eternity made our minds’ weakest sense
And eternity makes sense of our hearts.