With boundless back-drops so blued and blacked,
Was not the earth great gallery gods would choose,
Who held the knack to will the things that lacked,
And call for all the time that they could use...
To summon mountains from the lifeless sods,
Dispatch the winds to carve out canyon wall,
To sense the things that make them feel like gods,
To stand so tall that others seem so small?
When logic weakens gods, then has man sinned?
When man makes worlds and walks on seas confined,
When man can cool the sun and turn the wind,
And know that work's the product of this mind...
Who is it then that calls design divine?
Who is so divine that he would limit other's minds?