Bound by Reason, man sees the stars but touches them not; his instruments measure their brightness and composition, but knowing the brightness and composition of a star brings us no closer to an understanding of what they are and who made them. To those of Reason, the stars are inanimate balls of fire born at the singularity; to those of faith, the stars are the eyes of God.

 

 

In the deep dark, in the vastness of the plain

The fires gleamed, winking clear and bright

In the wild field where a lion’s cubs had lain

A family band was settled for the night

What are those lights there, a tiny voice was heard

Why they are sparks, son, from fires keeping warm

Why do they fly, like a tiny little bird

They fly to keep you well and safe from harm

Where do they go, for I see them climb the sky

Do they join the stars that I see far above

They do, for the sparks are the life that will not die

As we are the fire, and the stars that shine their love

Why are stars love, do they love us even though

We are here far away, where they surely cannot see

The stars are the eyes, son, of a God we cannot know

And so He sees the world and you and me

He sees us and loves us, and guides us in our ways

He gives us his love and asks nothing in return

He asks not for wealth nor for fame or hollow praise

He asks only that our fires burn

I see, said the child, both the fire and the sky

Are gifts to us from God, but God is where

He lives in our hearts, son, and will ‘til day we die

We only need to know that He is there