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; Nor Art, Nor Power, Nor Toil Can Find The Measure Of The Eternal Mind, Nor Hymn, Nor Prayer, Nor Church.
No favourite Poem yet! Login To View And Add to Favourites