Can Creatures to Perfection Find?

Can crea­tures to per­fect­ion find

Th’eter­nal

un­cre­at­ed Mind?

Or can the larg­est stretch of thought

Measure and search His na­ture out?

’Tis high as Heav’n

’tis deep as hell

And what can mor­tals know or tell?

His glo­ry spreads be­yond the sky

And all the shin­ing worlds on high.

But man

vain man

would fain be wise;

Born like a wild young colt

He flies

Through all the fol­lies of His mind

And swells

and snuffs the emp­ty wind.

God is a king of pow­er un­known

Firm are the or­ders of His throne;

If He re­solve

who dares op­pose

Or ask him why or what He does?

He wounds the heart

and He makes whole

He calms the tem­pest of the soul;

When He shuts up in long des­pair

Who can re­move the hea­vy bar?

He frowns

and dark­ness veils the moon;

The faint­ing sun grows dim at noon;

The pil­lars of Heav’n’s star­ry roof

Tremble and start at His re­proof.

He gave the vault­ed Heav’n its form

The crook­ed ser­pent

and the worm;

He breaks the bil­lows with His breath

And smites the sons of pride to death.

These are a por­tion of His ways;

But who shall dare des­cribe His face?

Who can en­dure His light

or stand

To hear the thun­ders of His hand?