from A Dearth of Prose

a modern psalm

O Lord, you are high above men.
We have written our praises in the sky
with mirrors that reflect our inadequacy.
Arms will not reach you.

The glass of a sea that brims with gold.
The prophecy of a Messiah fulfilled.
Is Christ come?
'The stain of salt gone.
Forgetfulness has thrown herself into memory.
The sea is not dry.'

Lord, you are high above earth.
The Great Bear turning southwards;
Capricorn by Saturn's transit:
you have made them all.
Canis Major, Great Dog;
you have made them all.
Let man seek the stars,
and cease his vain astrology,
and praise your name instead.

The fir and the lion speak your praise.
The brook in cavern babbles praise.
The sun is a ray as our life a ray of you.
We watched you in the bronze mirror;
we saw you face-to-face.
Snowcaps laugh, and hollow out years
where the incisive sun brings forth tears
and, like a dream, bears us away;
under these, and the lesser night
have we known ourselves incompletely;
mere tasted the design
of the Great Divine.
He has known our hollow years,
and fed us a Christ;
in Christ is man lifted high
to see the great God.
Through the mist infinite
I see, and behold:
the very face of eternity corporeal
in Christ, and am I satisfied:
that in the Divine is a human,
and in a human the Divine.

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