Photo by Chuck Bowman All rights reserved
They say there is a hollow, safe and still,
A point of coolness and repose
Within the centre of a flame, where life might dwell
unharmed and unconsumed, as in a luminous shell,
Which the bright walls of fire enclose
In breathless splendour, barrier that no foes
Could pass at will.
There is a point of rest
At the great centre of the cyclone's force,
A silence at its secret source;
A little child might slumber undistressed,
Without the ruffle of one fairy curl,
In that strange central calm amid the mighty whirl.
So in the centre of these thoughts of God,
Cyclones of power, consuming glory-fire
As we fall o'er awed
Upon our faces, and are lifted higher
By His great gentleness and carried nigher
Than unredeemed angels, till we stand
Even in the hollow of His hand,
Nay more! we lean upon His breasts --
There, there we find a point of perfect rest
And glorious safety. There we see
His thoughts to usward, thoughts of peace
That stoop to tenderest love; that still increase
With increase of our need; that never change,
That never fail, or falter, or forget.
Frances Ridley Havergal (1836-1879)
From the poem, "The Thoughts of God"
For my thoughts are not your thoughts
and your ways are not my ways --
the word of Hashem.
As high as the heavens over the earth,
so are My ways higher than your ways,
and My thoughts higher than your thoughts.
My word emanates from My mouth,
it will not return to Me unfulfilled unless it will have
accomplished what I desired and brought success
where I sent it.
Isaiah 55: 8-9, 11
The Stone Edition Tanach
When God becomes our form of thinking
we begin to sense all men in one man,
the whole world in a grain of sand,
eternity in a moment.
Excerpted from "Between God and Man,"
by Abraham J. Heschel
Simon & Schuster, 1959