Our Insufficiency to Praise God Suitably for His Mercy Edward Taylor Should all the world so wide to atoms fall, Should th' air be shred to motes; should we See all the Earth hacked here so small That none could smaller be? Should heaven and earth be atomized, we guess The number of these motes were numberless. But should we then a world each atom deem, Where dwell as many pious men As all these motes the world could teem, Were it shred into them? Each atom would the world surmount, we guess, Whose men in numbers would be numberless. But had each pious man as many tongues At singing all together then The praise that to the Lord belongs, As all these atoms men? Each man would sing a world of praise, we guess, Whose tongues in number would be numberless. And had each tongue as many songs of praise To sing to the almighty All; As all these men have songs to raise To him their holy call? Each tongue would tune a world of praise, we guess, Whose songs in number would be numberless. Nay, had each song as many tunes most sweet, Or one entwisting in't as many, As all these tongues have songs most meet Unparalleled by any? Each song a world of music makes, we guess, Whose tunes in number would be numberless. Now should all these conspire in us, that we Could breathe such praise to thee, Most High: Should we thy sounding organ be To ring such melody? Our music would the world of worlds outring, Yet be unfit within thine ears to ting. Thou didst us mold, and us new-mold when we Were worse than mold we tread upon. Nay, nettles made by sin we be: Yet hadst compassion. Thou hast plucked out our stings; and by degrees Hast of us, lately wasps, made lady bees. Thou e'er our tongues thy praise due can fan, A weevil with the world may fly, Yea fly away: and with a span We may out mete the sky. Though what we can is but a lisp, we pray Accent thereof. We have no better pay.