Before the Words of God Supreme
To-day are read, for this my theme
Approbation will I seek
These my sentences to speak;
Just two or three,
While tremblingly
On Him I meditate:
The Pure, who doth bear
The world for e'er,
His power who can relate?
Were the sky of parchment made,
A quill each reed, each twig and blade,
Could we with ink the oceans fill,
Were every man a scribe of skill,
The marvelous story
Of God's great glory
Would still remain untold;
For He, Most High,
