WHEN the children of Israel, when the glorious tribes of Jacob escaped the hateful, barbarian-tongued land of Egypt, then indeed the sons of Judah were the only holy people. God ruled the people with great power. The sea knew it and rushed headlong in flight, wrapped in a roaring wave, and sacred Jordan was thrust back to its silvery source. Limitless mountains ran bounding out, like lusty rams in a luxurious garden. At the same time, all the lower peaks skipped like lambs around their dear mother to the sound of a panpipe. Why, you dread monster sea, did you rush in flight, wrapped in a roaring wave? Why, you sacred Jordan, were you thrust back to your silvery source? Why, you limitless mountains, did you run bounding out like lusty rams in a luxurious garden? Why, you lower peaks, did you skip like lambs around their dear mother to the sound of a panpipe? Quake, earth, in fear of the great-thundering God — in fear, eath, of God, the highest majesty of the children of Isaac, who pours the raging rivers forth from the rocks and the ever-flowing spring from the weeping stone.