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pictured by Himself is, not the God of Judgment, but the Soul of external Nature; an infinite Sympathy revealed in the joyous spontaneities of nature. Omniscience, omnipotence, omnipresence are of course implied; but what is made prominent is an all-pervasive sympathy, embracing the vastnesses that strain the imagination, but penetrating also to the smallest things and things most remote from human interest. Though the Creator of the world, he is not here a creator by fiat, but an earth-builder, rejoicing in his task to secure its foundations and determine its measures, while the corner-stone is laid with the morning stars singing together and all the sons of God shouting for joy. There is power in his shutting up Ocean with bars it may not pass: there is another conception in his watching for it as it issues from the womb, making a garment for it of cloud, and swaddling bands of thick darkness. There is power in the dayspring taking hold of the ends of the earth and shaking the wicked out of their darkness: there is the artist's joy also in viewing the earth under this dawning light change as clay under a seal, while the dulled landscape suddenly stands forth as a patterned garment. What to man are the mysteries of the stars, of the ocean depths, of darkness, of light, of death itself, of the sources of the snow and hail, these make the common round of this Nature Power: who walks through the heavens binding the clusters of the Pleiades, loosing the bands of Orion, leading the signs of the Zodiac in their season, guiding the Bear with her train; he enters the springs of the sea, or walks in the fathomless recesses of the deep; now visits the gates of death, now takes the way to the dwelling of light, arranges by what angle the lightning shall fork, keeps treasuries of hail and snow against the day of battle. We have here, not the Food and tempest overwhelming the nations, but the rain with glorious redundancy rejoicing to rain on the wilderness where no man is, satisfying the waste and lonely land with his gift of the tender springing grass; or he watches the sport of the dust running into a mass, and the clods having their time of embracing as he pours out for them the bottles of heaven. Man has his ox, that eats out of his crib, and harrows after him the valleys: but here is sympathy with the passionate liberty of the wild ass which scorns the noisy city and the driver's shout, finding a palace of freedom in the salt wilderness and a pasture meadow in the rocky tableland. Here

is sympathy with the hawk soaring southwards, with the eagle in her spy-house of inaccessible crags, with the lioness crouching for the spring, with the food-winning anxieties of the raven, with all the family cares of the desert goat-the numbering of the months, the bowing in travail, the moment of casting out her sorrows, the young ones growing in good liking, their going forth at last to return to the parent no more. The stupid ostrich, with not enough of nature's first instinct to guard her eggs against the chance footfall, even she has her time, when she lifteth up herself on high and puts to scorn the horse and his rider. This war horse is also pictured, with the quivering mane, who has his joy in the terrors of mankind, swallowing the ground in the fierceness of his spirit as the trumpet and shouting tell of battle at hand!

God Speaking Out of the Whirlwind
Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?

Declare, if thou hast understanding-
Who determined the measures thereof, if thou knowest?
Or who stretched the line


it? Whereupon were the foundations thereof fastened? Or who laid the corner stone thereof;

When the morning stars sang together,

And all the sons of God shouted for joy?
Or who shut up the sea with doors,
When it brake forth, and issued out of the womb;

When I made the cloud the garment thereof,
And thick darkness a swaddling band for it,
And prescribed for it my decree,
And set bars and doors,
And said, “Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further;

And here shall thy proud waves be stayed?"
Hast thou commanded the morning since thy days began,
And caused the dayspring to know its place;

That it might take hold of the ends of the earth,
And the wicked be shaken out of it?
It is changed as clay under the seal;
And all things stand forth as a garment:

And from the wicked their light is withholden,

And the high arm is broken.
Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea?
Or hast thou walked in the recesses of the deep?
Have the gates of death been revealed unto thee?
Or hast thou seen the gates of the shadow of death?
Hast thou comprehended the breadth of the earth?

-Declare, if thou knowest it all
Where is the way to the dwelling of light,
And as for darkness, where is the place thereof;
That thou shouldest take it to the bound thereof,
And that thou shouldest discern the paths to the house thereof?

-Doubtless, thou knowest, for thou wast then born,

And the number of thy days is great! Hast thou entered the treasuries of the snow, Or hast thou seen the treasuries of the hail,

Which I have reserved against the time of trouble,

Against the day of battle and war?
By what way is the light parted,
Or the east wind scattered upon the earth?
Who hath cleft a channel for the waterflood,
Or a way for the lightning of the thunder;

To cause it to rain on a land where no man is;
On the wilderness, wherein there is no man;
To satisfy the waste and desolate ground;

And to cause the tender grass to spring forth?
Hath the rain a father?
Or who hath begotten the drops of dew?
Out of whose womb came the ice?
And the hoary frost of heaven, who hath gendered it?

The waters are hidden as with stone,

And the face of the deep is frozen. Canst thou bind the cluster of the Pleiades, Or loose the bands of Orion? Canst thou lead forth the signs of the Zodiac in their season? Or canst thou guide the Bear with her train? Knowest thou the ordinances of the heavens? Canst thou establish the dominion thereof in the earth?

Canst thou lift up thy voice to the clouds,
That abundance of waters may cover thee?
Canst thou send forth lightnings, that they may go,
And say unto thee, Here we are?
Who hath put wisdom in the inward parts?
Or who hath given understanding to the mind?
Who can number the clouds by wisdom?
Or who can pour out the bottles of heaven,

When the dust runneth into a mass,

And the clods cleave fast together? Wilt thou hunt the prey for the lioness? Or satisfy the appetite of the young lions,

When they couch in their dens,

And abide in the covert to lie in wait? Who provideth for the raven his food,

When his young ones cry unto God,

And wander for lack of meat?
Knowest thou the time when the wild goats of the rock bring

Or canst thou mark when the hinds do calve?
Canst thou number the months that they fulfil?
Or knowest thou the time when they bring forth?

They bow themselves, they bring forth their young,
They cast out their sorrows.
Their young ones are in good liking,
They grow up in the open field;

They go forth, and return not again.
Who hath sent out the wild ass free?
Or who hath loosed the bands of the wild ass?

Whose house I have made the wilderness,
And the salt land his dwelling place;
He scorneth the tumult of the city,
Neither heareth he the shoutings of the driver.
The range of the mountains is his pasture,

And he searcheth after every green thing.
Will the wild-ox be content to serve thee?
Or will he abide by thy crib?
Canst thou bind the wild-ox with his band in the furrow?

Or will he harrow the valleys after thee?
Wilt thou trust him, because his strength is great?
Or wilt thou leave to him thy labour?
Wilt thou confide in him, that he will bring home thy seed,
And gather the corn of thy threshing-floor?
The wing of the ostrich rejoiceth;
But are her pinions and feathers kindly?

For she leaveth her eggs on the earth,
And warmeth them in the dust,
And forgetteth that the foot may crush them,
Or that the wild beast may trample them.
She is hardened against her young ones, as if they were not

Though her labour be in vain, she is without fear;
Because God hath deprived her of wisdom,
Neither hath he imparted to her understanding.
What time she lifteth up herself on high,

She scorneth the horse and his rider.
Hast thou given the horse his might?
Hast thou clothed his neck with the quivering mane?
Hast thou made him to leap as a locust?

The glory of his snorting is terrible.
He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength:
He goeth out to meet the armed men.
He mocketh at fear and is not dismayed;
Neither turneth he back from the sword.
The quiver rattleth against him,
The flashing spear and the javelin.
He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage;
Neither standeth he still at the voice of the trumpet.
As oft as the trumpet soundeth he saith, Aha!
And he smelleth the battle afar off,

The thunder of the captains, and the shouting.
Doth the hawk soar by thy wisdom,
And stretch her wings toward the south?
Doth the eagle mount up at thy command,
And make her nest on high?
She dwelleth on the rock, and hath her lodging there,

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