To contemplate means to see with the soul. What ear cannot hear, we hear within; what eye cannot see; we perceive within; what the mind cannot conceive, we know and understand.
Without words, truth is spoken. Without a motion, love is communicated. His invisible Presence fills the room and all therein fall still, crying, "Holy, Holy, Holy."
Robert Frost could say this in a poem about snow falling off a tree; the rest of us have to stumble through with meaningless utterances.
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