They leave us with the Infinite.
But He — is not a man —
His fingers are the size of fists —
His fists, the size of men —
And whom he foundeth, with his Arm
As Himmaleh, shall stand —
Gibraltar’s Everlasting Shoe
Poised lightly on his Hand,
So trust him, Comrade —
You for you, and I, for you and me
Eternity is ample,
And quick enough, if true.
When people die or ministers preach they tell me of an infinite God. Mountains show He is infinitely powerful, but if He is really there, He is hard to trust.