Man fain would build a bridge
Across the fathomless abyss
That lies between his earth-bound soul
And heaven's perfect bliss.
He takes his knowledge, small
The great inventions he has wrought,
His mightiest efforts, finest plans,
And his profoundest thought:
He binds them with his strands
His strings of tow, his ropes of sand,
With all the power and the skill
Of cunning brain and hand.
Through swirling mists he strains
Above the unseen torrent's roar
He pushes forth the makeshift thing
And hopes to touch the shore.
But when he seeks to cross the
With eager heart and step elate,
He finds his bridge too short to reach,
Too frail to bear his weight.
Oh, baseless dream! Oh, useless
Oh, utter and eternal loss!
For God has laid, to span the void,
His Son upon the cross.
And when man's broken bridges
And sink into the gulf at last,
Still wide and long and safe and strong,
The bridge of God stands fast.
Annie Johnson Flint
Acts 4:12 Neither
is there salvation in any
other: for there is none other name
under heaven given among men,
whereby we must be saved.