You mantle yourself in light, stretch out the skies as a curtain; the clouds your chariot, you tread the ways of the wind, making winds your messengers, flaming fire your servant, on a firm base establishing the earth, which forever will not be moved: the deeps enrobed it; the waters stood above the mountains. At your rebuke they flee, at the voice of your thunder they rush away. Mountains rose, valleys sank down to the place you established for them. You filled the bounds they may not pass, nor return to cover the earth. You made the moon for its seasons, the sun knows the hour of its setting. You made darkness, and it is light in which beasts of the field prowl forth, young lions roaring for their prey, seeking food from God.
