The voice of the Lord makes the oaks to whirl, and strips the forests bare; and in his temple all cry, “Glory!”
O Lord, I love the habitation of thy house, and the place where thy glory dwells.
We have thought on thy steadfast love, O God, in the midst of thy temple.
So I have looked upon thee in the sanctuary, beholding thy power and glory.
For wickedness burns like a fire, it consumes briers and thorns; it kindles the thickets of the forest, and they roll upward in a column of smoke.