And now men see not the light which is bright in the skies: But the wind passeth, and cleanseth them.
He closeth in the face of his throne, And spreadeth his cloud upon it.
He covereth his hands with the lightning; And giveth it a charge that it 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 cometh golden splendour: God hath upon him terrible majesty.
Who hath cleft a channel for the waterflood, Or a way for the lightning of the thunder;