Of the things of Heaven,

I have not a clue.

By force of hope,

I am thrust to trust you.

Not by sounds or syllables,

Are my ears confused.

But by the very truth,

You are forced to use.

You are our eternity,

Blessed and always to be.

While we are of the tiny things;

Death is all we see.

Cataracts born of temporary,

Obscure your Glory from me.

Yet I will dare to hope.

For what You say will be!

By His Grace