The tempest comes out from its chamber, the cold from the driving winds.
The breath of God produces ice, and the broad waters become frozen.
He loads the clouds with moisture; he scatters his lightning through them.
At his direction they swirl around over the face of the whole earth to do whatever he commands them.
He brings the clouds to punish people, or to water his earth and show his love.
“Listen to this, Job; stop and consider God’s wonders.
Do you know how God controls the clouds and makes his lightning flash?
Do you know how the clouds hang poised, those wonders of him who has perfect knowledge?
You who swelter in your clothes when the land lies hushed under the south wind,
can you join him in spreading out the skies, hard as a mirror of cast bronze?
“Tell us what we should say to him; we cannot draw up our case because of our darkness.
Should he be told that I want to speak? Would anyone ask to be swallowed up?
Now no one can look at the sun, bright as it is in the skies after the wind has swept them clean.