Poetic Quotes
Spurgeon on Psalm 8, verse 1:
"Yet in all these how great soe'er they be,
We see not Him. The glass is all too dense
And dark, or else our earthborn eyes too dim.
Yon Alps, that lift their heads above the clouds
And hold familiar converse with the stars,
Are dust, at which the balance trembleth not,
Compared with His divine immensity.
The snow-crown'd summits fail to set Him forth,
Who dwelleth in Eternity, and bears
Alone, the name of High and Lofty One.
Depths unfathomed are too shallow to express
The wisdom and the knowledge of the Lord,
The mirror of the creatures has no space
To bear the image of the Infinite.
'Tis true the Lord hath fairly writ His name,
And set His seal upon creation's brow.
But as the skilful potter much excels
The vessel which he fashions on the wheel,
E'en so, but in proportion greater far,
Jehovah's self transcends His noblest works.
Earth's ponderous wheels would break, her axles snap,
If freighted with the load of Deity.
Space is too narrow for the Eternal's rest,
And time too short a footstool for His throne.
E'en avalanche and thunder lack a voice,
To utter the full volume of His praise.
How then can I declare Him! Where are words
With which my glowing tongue may speak His name!
Silent I bow, and humbly I adore."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thomas Washbourne. D.D., 1654 on Psalm 8, verse 4:
"Lord, what is man that thou
So mindful art of him? Or what's the son
Of man, that thou the highest heaven didst bow,
And to his aide didst runne?
Man's but a piece of clay
That's animated by thy heavenly breath,
And when that breath thou tak'st away,
He's clay again by death.
He is not worthy of the least
Of all thy mercies at the best.
Baser than clay is he,
For sin hath made him like the beasts that perish,
Though next the angels he was in degree;
Yet this beast thou dost cherish.
He is not worthy of the least,
Of all thy mercies, he's a beast.
Worse than a beast is man,
Who after thine own image made at first,
Became the divel's sonne by sin. And can
A thing be more accurst?
Yet thou thy greatest mercy hast
On this accursed creature cast.
Thou didst thyself abase,
And put off all thy robes of majesty,
Taking his nature to give him thy grace,
To save his life didst dye.
He is not worthy of the least
Of all thy mercies; one's a feast.
Lo! man is made now even
With the blest angels, yea, superior farre.
Since Christ sat down at God's right hand in heaven,
And God and man one are.
Thus all thy mercies man inherits
Though not the least of them he merits."
"Yet in all these how great soe'er they be,
We see not Him. The glass is all too dense
And dark, or else our earthborn eyes too dim.
Yon Alps, that lift their heads above the clouds
And hold familiar converse with the stars,
Are dust, at which the balance trembleth not,
Compared with His divine immensity.
The snow-crown'd summits fail to set Him forth,
Who dwelleth in Eternity, and bears
Alone, the name of High and Lofty One.
Depths unfathomed are too shallow to express
The wisdom and the knowledge of the Lord,
The mirror of the creatures has no space
To bear the image of the Infinite.
'Tis true the Lord hath fairly writ His name,
And set His seal upon creation's brow.
But as the skilful potter much excels
The vessel which he fashions on the wheel,
E'en so, but in proportion greater far,
Jehovah's self transcends His noblest works.
Earth's ponderous wheels would break, her axles snap,
If freighted with the load of Deity.
Space is too narrow for the Eternal's rest,
And time too short a footstool for His throne.
E'en avalanche and thunder lack a voice,
To utter the full volume of His praise.
How then can I declare Him! Where are words
With which my glowing tongue may speak His name!
Silent I bow, and humbly I adore."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thomas Washbourne. D.D., 1654 on Psalm 8, verse 4:
"Lord, what is man that thou
So mindful art of him? Or what's the son
Of man, that thou the highest heaven didst bow,
And to his aide didst runne?
Man's but a piece of clay
That's animated by thy heavenly breath,
And when that breath thou tak'st away,
He's clay again by death.
He is not worthy of the least
Of all thy mercies at the best.
Baser than clay is he,
For sin hath made him like the beasts that perish,
Though next the angels he was in degree;
Yet this beast thou dost cherish.
He is not worthy of the least,
Of all thy mercies, he's a beast.
Worse than a beast is man,
Who after thine own image made at first,
Became the divel's sonne by sin. And can
A thing be more accurst?
Yet thou thy greatest mercy hast
On this accursed creature cast.
Thou didst thyself abase,
And put off all thy robes of majesty,
Taking his nature to give him thy grace,
To save his life didst dye.
He is not worthy of the least
Of all thy mercies; one's a feast.
Lo! man is made now even
With the blest angels, yea, superior farre.
Since Christ sat down at God's right hand in heaven,
And God and man one are.
Thus all thy mercies man inherits
Though not the least of them he merits."