Eternal Life
The World with its cravings is passing away, But those who do God’s will live forever.
—John.
The Measureless Soul Of Man
I open my ecuttle at night and see the far sprinkled systems,
And all I see, multiplied as high as I can cipher, edge but the rim of the farther systems.
Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding,
Outward, outward, and forever outward.
My sun has his sun, and around him obediently wheels,
He joins with his partners a group of superior circuit,
And greater sets follow, making specks of the greatest inside them.
There is no stoppage, and never can be stoppage,
If I, you, the worlds, all beneath or upon their surfaces, and all the palpable life, were this moment reduced back to a pallid float, it would not avail in the long run,
We should surely bring up again where we now stand,
And as surely go as much farther—and then farther and farther.
A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic leagues, do not hazard the span, or make it impatient,
They are but parts-—anything is but a part.
See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of that,
Count ever so much, there is limitless time around that.
My rendezvous is appointed,
The Lord will be there, and wait till I come on perfect terms.
I know I have the best of time and space, and
Was never measured, and never will be measured.
—Walt Whitman.
Alternate Reading: Psalms 33:1-9.