If man could talk with God and comprehend
Celestial conversations, he would know
The secret tide of life, its ebb and flow
From no beginning to the never-end;
Along the path of truth his mind would wend
Engaging archangels who ever go
About their business, as the winds that blow
Between the galaxies, with love to tend
The poor in spirit and the pure in heart.
If all this he could know, it's plain to see
He would no longer need to be a man,
Who surely must on earth work out his part
By learning in his spirit infancy,
Or there would be no purpose, nor a plan.