The Glory Of God
The sapphire of the deep and placid lakes,
The pearfy radiance of the flying mists,
Shall be the mirrors of His smile; the fields
Shall clothe themselves with flowers, and the peaks
With snow, to imitate His glory.
The wild things of the forest and the air
From den and eyrie shall adore His name.
The silent caverns of the deep shall teem
With servants of His word. The sea itself
Shall pile its jeweled waves aloft to make
The thunderous altars of the choir of storms.
All growing things—the lofty pine, the moss
That clings about the desert rock—shall teach
His worship; Him the boundless main declares,
Receiving all the waters of the earth
To give them back in helpful rain as
He receives in adoration and gives back in bliss.
And this has ever been true since time
And movement of created things began.
For all things hold their being from His care.
Should He not care, chaos would mar the world.
This is the happy fear that sways the flowers,
The fear that tells the lily to grow pale
And brings a blush upon the rose.
He came
To see in man, creation’s prince, the best
Reflection of Himself. God-Man, He saw,
And loved the Godlike image of Himself.
—Sister Juana Ynez.
The Silence Of The Infinite
The Infinite always is silent:
It is only the Finite speaks.
Our words are the idle wave-caps
On the deep that never breaks.
We may question with wand of science,
Explain, decide, discuss;
But only in meditation
The Mystery speaks to us.
—John B. O’Reilly.
Alternate Reading: John 10: 1-21.