"His tricolored bow divides the heavens into two parts and rests on the ends of the earth plain. Where are the gates which could equal Him in loftiness? Nations are in terror at the thunder of His chariot, and there is naught beneath the sun which could stand His flashing arrows.
"His breath is the north wind at midnight, which freshens trees when withering, His anger is like the chamsin which burns what it touches.
"When He stretches His hands above the waters, they are petrified. He pours the sea into new places, as a woman pours out leaven. He rends the earth as if it were old linen, and clothes in silvery snow the naked tops of mountains.
"In a grain of wheat He hides one hundred other grains, and causes birds to incubate. From the drowsy chrysalis He leads to life a golden butterfly, and makes men's bodies wait in tombs until the day of resurrection."
The rowers, absorbed in the song, raised their oars, and the purple barge dropped slowly down with the sweep of the river. All at once Herhor rose, and commanded,
"Turn now toward Memphis!"
The oars fell; the barge turned where it stood, and raised the water with noise. After it followed Sarah's hymn decreasing gradually,
"He sees the movement of hearts, the silent hidden ways on which pass the innermost thoughts in men's breasts. But no man can gaze into His heart and spy out His purposes.
"Before the gleam of His garments mighty spirits hide their faces. Before His glance the gods of great cities and nations turn aside and shrink like withering leaves.
"He is power, He is life, He is wisdom. He is thy Lord, thy God, O
Israel!"