Could we with ink the ocean fill
And were the sky's of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
These words were penciled on the wall of an insane asylum by a man said to have been demented. The profound lines were discovered when they laid him in his coffin.
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