Now men don't see the light which is bright in the skies, but the wind passes, and clears them.
He encloses the face of his throne, and spreads his cloud on it.
He covers his hands with the lightning, and commands it to strike the mark.
Shall it be told him that I would speak? Or should a man wish that he were swallowed up?
Out of the north comes golden splendor. With God is awesome majesty.
Who has cut a channel for the flood water, or the path for the thunderstorm;