Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath;
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief,
That can denote me truly: these indeed, seem,
For they are actions that a man might play;
But I have that within that passes show;
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.

_Shakespeare._

2.

Then the earth shook and trembled: the foundations of Heaven moved and
shook, because he was wroth. There went up a smoke out of his nostrils; and
fire out his mouth devoured; coals were kindled by it. He bowed the
heavens, also, and came down; and darkness was under his feet; and he rode
upon a cherub, and did fly; and he was seen upon the wings of the wind; and
he made darkness pavilions round about him, dark waters, and thick clouds
of the skies. The Lord thundered from heaven, and the Most High uttered his
voice; and he sent out arrows and scattered them; lightning and discomfited
them. And the channels of the sea appeared; the foundations of the world
were discovered at the rebuking of the Lord, at the blast of the breath of
his nostrils.

3.

I am thy father's spirit;
Doomed for a certain term to walk the night,