I cried to God,
I beat upon the door
Until my knuckles bled;
God gave me no answer, gave no sign.
"There is no God," I sad.
I stopped my clamor
And lay spent,
A channel at ebb tide,
And slowly in the silence
The door swung wide.
The spirit of childhood is a spirit of simplicity and joy that goes together with the greatest intelligence and the most advanced knowledge. Here more than anywhere else the law of contrasts holds: one must be great to be secure enough to be truly childlike -- just as one must be strong to be infinitely gentle, and wise in order to permit oneself to be foolish. Spiritual childhood is a matter of trust and self-surrender into God's hands.
