Can'st thou draw out Leviathan with a fishhook,
Or press down his tongue with a cord?
Can'st thou pierce his jaw with one mighty tug,
Or lay him to rest with thy sword?
Are there none so fierce that they dare such a thing?
Then which of thee can stand with me?
Hast thou the grace to come into my presence,
Or the wisdom to know what thou wouldst see?
I have heard thy boasting as ye strut to and fro,
Thou dost presume to be equal to me.
Yet thou art but a leaf that adorns the branch.
And a leaf is not greater than the tree.
Wert thou there when the Earth's foundations were laid?
Didst thou set her pillars in place?
Was it thee who weaved the clouds for her garment,
Or made the sun to shine on her face?
If thy Father hath endowed thee with talent,
Dost thou honor His name with its use?
And if thou hast glorified thyself alone,
Wilt thou offer some futile excuse?
Was it not I who created the instruments
Which thou used to follow thy dreams?
Am I not the source of the inspiration
That flows from thee like gentle streams?
Was it not I who gave the picture its color,
Or the music its melody?
Was it thou who breathed life into creation,
And inspired its harmony?
Though I love thee, thou must learn thy place.
Through thy vain facades I see.
Before the womb's embrace, I knew thee.
I am God, and thou art MY poetry.