There is some beauty to you that I wish I could speak of. From my room I look out on the city lights at night. I look down into the Hinnom Valley and feel the cool breeze that blows from the west. It comes from the Great Sea, the Mediterranean. It cools my skin and stirs my soul lightly. It makes it easy to sleep at night. All these things are beautiful, and I have not nearly seen all of your land, but when I close my eyes the true beauty begins. Can I explain it? If I was learned in music I would sit at the piano and compose a song that would stir the heart of even the hardest man. His eyes would tear from the beauty of the notes and beats. Yet then I would not do this beauty justice. Or be me a poet, and have knowledge of all kinds of beauful speech I would write a novel filled with such heroism, poetry, adventure, and marvel that it would inspire the most feeble man to greatness. But what can I do? With tears pouring I can only write these humble words of longing.
What must it be like to express or grasp the beauty of the Lord like the angels, yes, even those angels who fall postrate at his feet in worship! It seems that the Lord has given man a simplicity in worship, and perhaps it is through this simplicity of man that the Lord is honored the most. Maybe the beauty is in the simplicity; like children we settle on his lap resting our heads on his shoulder. Naive we are that our Father is a warrior. His hands, hardened by battle, the same that tuck us in at night stroking our hair to comfort us in our mild pain. As he champions in battle his comrads pay him honor and respect, but when he returns to his dwelling from battle he enters his true glory. For when he comes home he is his children's daddy, and he is is his bride's lover.
