What love is this of Thine that cannot be
In Thine infinity, O Lord, confined,
Unless it in Thy very person see
Infinity and finity conjoined?
What hath Thy godhead, as not satisfied,
Married our manhood, making it its bride?
Oh matchless love! Filling heaven to the brim!
O'errunning it: all running o'er beside
This world! Nay, overflowing hell; wherein
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem