Shall heaven, then, be small? How shall we get inside if there's no mighty gate and tall, but just a needle's eye? A keyhole for a door, no wider than a nail: How shall you draw us through it, Lord, if mercy should not fail? O you who came unseen, encelled in Mary's womb, who shrank all heaven to a gleam and locked it in a tomb, will surely open worlds within the needle's eye where even fools have lamps that burn like torches in the night and where the wayward flock finds pasture by your stream, a river pouring form the rock, an ocean in its seam. If I am not so small, yet, Shepherd, give me rest where many mansions rise up tall, where once a spear had pierced.
Doubting Thomas – Google Art Project By Unknown – illuminator – hgFUz6bXaLmUQQ at Google Cultural Institute maximum zoom level, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=22185693
Kate Bluett 