Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet read more

Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet 'tis Thy voice, my God, that bids them fly,
Thy arm directs those lightnings through the sky.
Then let the good Thy mighty name revere,
And hardened sinners Thy just vengeance fear.

The winds grow high;
Impending tempests charge the sky;
The lightning flies, the thunder roars;
read more

The winds grow high;
Impending tempests charge the sky;
The lightning flies, the thunder roars;
And big waves lash the frightened shores.

The storm is master. Man, as a ball, is tossed twixt winds and
billows.
[Ger., Der Sturm ist read more

The storm is master. Man, as a ball, is tossed twixt winds and
billows.
[Ger., Der Sturm ist Meister; Wind und Well spielen
Ball mit dem Menschen.]

Your chances of getting struck by lightning go up if you stand under a tree, shake your fist at the read more

Your chances of getting struck by lightning go up if you stand under a tree, shake your fist at the sky, and say "Storms suck!"

Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
read more

Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man,
Dressed in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured
His glassy essence--like an angry ape
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
would all themselves laugh mortal.

Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.

Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.

Roads are wet where'er one wendeth,
And with rain the thistle bendeth,
And the brook cries like read more

Roads are wet where'er one wendeth,
And with rain the thistle bendeth,
And the brook cries like a child!
Not a rainbow shines to cheer us;
Ah! the sun comes never near us,
And the heavens look dark and wile.

Ride the air
In whirlwind.

Ride the air
In whirlwind.

Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
read more

Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentany as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.