“You, actually, saint and always ready to help all men, always generous with mortals, to the miserable in disgrace you give a mother’s sweet love. Not a single day or a night and not even a single moment, even the shortest, passes without your benediction, without you protecting men on earth and in the sea and offering your right hand in help, driving away the storms of existence, thanks to which you untie even the strings very tangled, of every destiny, calm the storms of fortune and stop the cruel courses of the stars.
The surviving Gods worship you,
the hell honor you,
you let the sphere of the sky turn,
you enlighten the sun,
you govern the world and tread the Tartaro.
Thanks to you the stars become favorable,
thanks to you the seasons return,
the Gods are happy and the elements are your slaves.
At your gesture the winds blow, the clouds give nourishment, the seeds sprout, the shoots grow.
The birds go across the sky,
the wild beasts that are on the mountains,
tha snakes that hide in the ground,
the monsters that swim in the sea fear your majesty.
But my abilities are too weak to re-echo your praises,
I’m not so rich to offer you sacrifices, nor do I have such a great inventiveness to be able to say
what I feel for your majesty,
nor a thousand mouths and tongues would be enough,
nor an endless connection of an indefatigable sermon.
So I will only try to do what actually a faithful one can do but who for the rest is poor:
I will contemplate your divine appearance and your sainted name, kept in the most secret recesses of my heart, keeping them for eternity”.

(APULEIO, Metamorphoses, XI, 25)