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Rh That the Infinite must bound us, as a temple veil unrent, While the Finite ever wearies, so that none attain content ? — "I have many things to tell you, but ye cannot bear them now." Is it so, O Christ in heaven, that the fulness yet to come Is so glorious and so perfect, that to know would strike us dumb ? That, if only for a moment, we could pierce beyond the sky With these poor dim eyes of mortals, we should just see God and die ? — "I have many things to show you, but ye cannot bear them now."