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.