In many forms we try To utter God's infinity, But the boundless hath no form, And the Universal Friend Doth as far transcend An angel as a worm. The great Idea baffles wit, Language falters under it, It leaves the learned in the lurch; No art, nor power, nor toil can find The measure of the eternal Mind, Nor hymn, nor prayer, nor church. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LETTER TO HER HUSBAND, ABSENT UPON PUBLIC EMPLOYMENT by ANNE BRADSTREET DEAD MAN'S DUMP by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE BOUNDARIES OF APPRECIATION by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS HILLS by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE MY GHOSTS by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS |