HYMN OF PRAISE
To the Creator O Infinite Creator, in soul I bow before Thee.
When I speak Thy name I belittle Thee;
With my every thought I belittle Thee.
What is the mind able to think before the open sea of Thy spaciousness?
What can the tongue say when it must remain silent
Before Thine awesome mountains and chasms?
Before Thine immeasurable height and width,
Before Thy plains, slopes, depths and distance—
And nearness, O God, oh yes, even nearness! And still more miraculous,
Thy humble lowliness! Thou, as a man, didst lower Thyself to our lowliness,
Didst lower and constrain Thyself into a mortal valley,
That Thou mightest raise the valley to the heavenly firmament,
And make worn-out creation new.
Of all Thy qualities, Thy lowliness Halts my thought.
Thou bindest my lips!
What can I think, what can I say
About the hungry, thirsty and crucified God?
What can I say to Thee, O Thou Most-rich,
Who, because of me, becamest the poorest One?
Let the tongue keep silent, let tears speak:
Save, in Thy mercy, what Thy thought has created
Velimirovich, Saint Nikolai. The Prologue of Ohrid (pp. 128-130). Sebastian Press. Kindle Edition.
To the Creator O Infinite Creator, in soul I bow before Thee.
When I speak Thy name I belittle Thee;
With my every thought I belittle Thee.
What is the mind able to think before the open sea of Thy spaciousness?
What can the tongue say when it must remain silent
Before Thine awesome mountains and chasms?
Before Thine immeasurable height and width,
Before Thy plains, slopes, depths and distance—
And nearness, O God, oh yes, even nearness! And still more miraculous,
Thy humble lowliness! Thou, as a man, didst lower Thyself to our lowliness,
Didst lower and constrain Thyself into a mortal valley,
That Thou mightest raise the valley to the heavenly firmament,
And make worn-out creation new.
Of all Thy qualities, Thy lowliness Halts my thought.
Thou bindest my lips!
What can I think, what can I say
About the hungry, thirsty and crucified God?
What can I say to Thee, O Thou Most-rich,
Who, because of me, becamest the poorest One?
Let the tongue keep silent, let tears speak:
Save, in Thy mercy, what Thy thought has created
Velimirovich, Saint Nikolai. The Prologue of Ohrid (pp. 128-130). Sebastian Press. Kindle Edition.
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