Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, thou art very great;
thou art clothed with honour and majesty.
Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretches
out the heavens like a curtain:
Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh
the clouds his chariot: who walketh upon the wings of the wind:
Who maketh his angels spirits; his ministers a flaming fire:
Who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be
removed for ever.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
A litle wind kindles; much puts out the fire.
[A little wind kindles; much puts out the fire.]
A litle wind kindles; much puts out the fire.
[A little wind kindles; much puts out the fire.]
An ill wind that bloweth no man good--
The blower of which blast is she.
An ill wind that bloweth no man good--
The blower of which blast is she.
The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of read more
The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their charge.
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in read more
Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.
Blow, Boreas, foe to human kind!
Blow, blustering, freezing, piercing wind!
Blow, that thy force I may read more
Blow, Boreas, foe to human kind!
Blow, blustering, freezing, piercing wind!
Blow, that thy force I may rehearse,
While all my thoughts congeal to verse!
To a crazy ship all winds are contrary.
To a crazy ship all winds are contrary.
The wind's in the east. . . . I am always conscious of an
uncomfortable sensation now and then read more
The wind's in the east. . . . I am always conscious of an
uncomfortable sensation now and then when the wind is blowing in
the east.
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears read more
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills,
And April's in the West wind, and daffodils.
The wind, the wandering wind
Of the golden summer eyes--
Whence is the thrilling magic
read more
The wind, the wandering wind
Of the golden summer eyes--
Whence is the thrilling magic
Of its tunes amongst the leaves?
Oh, is it from the waters,
Or from the long, tall grass?
Or is it from the hollow rocks
Through which its breathings pass?
