The wild ass quenches his thirst.
The fowls of heaven dwell beside them,
And sing among the branches.
He watereth the hills from his clouds above;
The fruit of his works satisfieth the earth.
He maketh grass to grow for cattle,
And herb for the service of man,
Preparing bread from the earth
And wine that maketh glad man’s heart;
The fragrance of the oil for ointment,