The voice of the Lord causes the oaks to whirl and strips the forest bare, and in his temple all say, “Glory!”
O Lord, I love the house in which you dwell and the place where your glory abides.
We ponder your steadfast love, O God, in the midst of your temple.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory.
For wickedness burned like a fire, consuming briers and thorns; it kindled the thickets of the forest, and they swirled upward in a column of smoke.