The voice of the LORD makes the deer give birth[3] and strips the forests bare, and in his temple all cry, "Glory!"
We have thought on your steadfast love, O God, in the midst of your temple.
O LORD, I love the habitation of your house and the place where your glory dwells.
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.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory.