The heavens declare the glory of God,
   and the sky above proclaims his handiwork.
Day to day pours out speech,
   and night to night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words,
   whose voice is not heard.
Their voice goes out through all the earth,
   and their words to the end of the world.
In them he has set a tent for the sun,
  which comes out like a bridegroom leaving his chamber,
   and, like a strong man, runs its course with joy.
Its rising is from the end of the heavens,
   and its circuit to the end of them,
   and there is nothing hidden from its heat.
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Beautiful.
Oh, what is it about the Word of God? It’s always like a spring in the desert.