The Love of God—A Poem
05/30/01
If we with ink the ocean fill and were the sky of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill and every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above would drain the oceans dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole though stretched from sky to sky;
O love of God, how rich; how pure; how measureless and strong;
It shall for ever more endure the saints’ and angels’ song.
8:35 a.m.