Mighty Mite Poem by S.W. Clark

From Heaven we wrest the most difficult subjects,
and grasp between little and thumb.
Thinking God were as man,
and that neither one were dumb.
And out of consideration we extol the highest,
but have minded all that view,
It is true that God is number One,
but is man number two?
Surely he has forgotten how far behind
that in his being does God surpass,
The human is not as angel or diety,
but more of the intellect of ape or jackass.
With what then do we measure the eternal,
Oh bug inside the whale,
For whatever rule you do apply,
of shortness you will fail.
Little mite as you crawl the floor
be mindful of whose dwelling you trespass.
And maybe if you travel there softly,
God might just leave you pass.