The voice of the Lord twists the oaks and strips the forests bare. And in his temple all cry, “Glory!”
Lord, I love the house where you live, the place where your glory dwells.
Within your temple, O God, we meditate on your unfailing love.
I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory.
Surely wickedness burns like a fire; it consumes briers and thorns, it sets the forest thickets ablaze, so that it rolls upward in a column of smoke.