"Could we with ink the ocean fill,
and were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
and every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
though stretched from sky to sky."

found penciled on a wall in the room of a patient in an insane asylum...i am encouraged in that what we can't see or understand, He does, and can, in perfect clarity. So we can trust him perfectly.