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...AT A LUNAR ECLIPSE by THOMAS HARDY THE MENAGERIE by WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY A MAN BY THE NAME OF BOLUS by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY SONNET by THEODORE AGRIPPA D' AUBIGNE LILIES: 8 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |