. . . we can behold Remote things well, for so much light does He Who rules supreme still grant us; but we are foiled When things draw near us, and our intelligence Is useless when they are present. . . .
God, you are my God;
I seek you.
My soul thirsts for you,
my flesh longs for you,
in a parched and thirsty land without water--
thus to have beheld you in the sanctuary,
to see your might and your glory.
For your kindness is better than life;
my lips shall praise you.
Thus shall I bless you all my life;
in your name I shall lift my hands.
As if my desire were sated with suet and fat,
I sing praises with joyful lips,
when I call you to mind upon my bed,
when I think of you in the watches of the night;
for you have been my help,
in the shelter of your wings I sing for joy.
My soul cleaves to you;
your right hand supports me.
May those who seek to destroy my soul
enter the depths of the earth.
May they be gutted by the sword;
may they be prey to jackals.
The king shall rejoice in God;
all who swear by him shall be glorified
when the mouth of liars is stopped.