9
God's thunder sets the oak trees dancing A wild dance, whirling; the pelting rain strips their branches. We fall to our knees - we call out, "Glory!"
9
The voice of the Lord making ready harts (to calve), and he shall show thick things; and in his temple all men shall say glory. (The voice of the Lord maketh the harts to calve, and bringeth the goat kids early to their birth; and in his Temple everyone shall shout, Glory!)