Could we with ink the ocean fill, and were the skies of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill, and every man a scribe by trade.
To write the love of God above, would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole, though stretched from sky to sky.
O love of God, how rich and pure, how measureless and strong;
It shall for evermore endure, the Saints’ and Angels’ song.
Were every stalk on earth a quill, and every man a scribe by trade.
To write the love of God above, would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole, though stretched from sky to sky.
O love of God, how rich and pure, how measureless and strong;
It shall for evermore endure, the Saints’ and Angels’ song.
This is one of my favorites...thanks for posting it!
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