Silence is the language of lovers—of heart speaking to heart, as Newman says. When you experience the joy of being face-to-face with the one you love, the experience is ineffable. There are no words.
Once, after closing my eyes during the Canon of the Mass at a celebration in the Extraordinary Form, I looked up and saw the priest as he faced the tabernacle, his right hand weaving an intricate web of invisible crosses above the paten. His hand moved through the air with such urgency that for a moment it was as though he were Moses, standing in the breach, pleading for his people, pleading for me.
O lux beatissima,
reple cordis intima
There are no words.