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Written by: G K Chesterton | Biography
| Poems
 | Quotes |
 I cannot count the pebbles in the brook.
Well hath He spoken: "Swear not by thy head.
Thou knowest not the hairs," though He, we read, Writes that wild number in His own strange book.
I cannot count the sands or search the seas, Death cometh, and I leave so much untrod.
Grant my immortal aureole, O my God, And I will name the leaves upon the trees, In heaven I shall stand on gold and glass, Still brooding earth's arithmetic to spell; Or see the fading of the fires of hell Ere I have thanked my God for all the grass.

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