What kind of God are You, my Lord?
Those who know You least say You
are ugly,
a moral monster, an insufferable
tyrant.
Those who know You best long to
dwell in Your house
to behold Your beauty all the days
of their lives.
Who is fit to teach me—
Those who know You least or
Those who know You best?
Who is fit to teach me?
You are, O Lord, for who knows You
better
than You know
Yourself?
You who are worshiped for Your
beauty,
show me Your
beauty that I may worship You better.
Is Your beauty
A snow-capped mountain—distant,
cold, and severe?
A flower—fading and easily crushed?
A haunting aria—filling the soul
with longing it cannot quite satisfy?
Surely these are but faint echoes of Your beauty,
The sound of a song heard dimly in
the distance,
Or shadows cast by Your great light
down into our darkened world.
An earthly melody may move a heart
of flesh,
But Your beauty turns a heart of stone
into living flesh.
So what is Your beauty, Lord?
What is more beautiful than Love?
Love that plans to surprise the ugly
beloved with love
Love that sacrifices its life for
the beloved
Love that gives the whole self to
the beloved.
The love of the Father; the love of
the Son; the love of the Spirit—
The eternal Love of the Triune
God.
If You are a moral monster, O my God,
Why does meditating on Your beauty
fill my heart with warmth
And fit me for loving my neighbor?
