Open unto me ... light for my darkness.
Open unto me ... courage for my fear.
Open unto me ... hope for my despair.
Open unto me ... peace for my turmoil.
Open unto me ... joy for my sorrow.
Open unto me ... strength for my weakness.
Open unto me ... wisdom for my confusion.
Open unto me ... forgiveness for my sins.
Open unto me ... tenderness for my toughness.
Open unto me ... love for my hates.
Open unto me ... Thy Self for my self.
To the medieval thinker beauty was not a value independent of others, but rather the radiance of truth, the splendor of ontological perfection, and that quality of things which reflects their origin in God. Light and luminous objects, no less than musical consonance, conveyed an insight into the perfection of the cosmos, and a divination of the Creator.
