(Rich Mullins, Early 80's)

Were You angry with the rivers, Lord?
Was Your wrath against the stream?
Did You rage against the waves of the sea?
When You rode down in Your chariots
Drawn by horses for battle clothed
You called arrows and uncovered Your bow.
You split the earth with rivers
Mountains saw You and writhed.
The deep broke into roaring
And lifted its waves high!

Sun and moon stood still in Heaven
Like a child frozen with fear
At the lightening of Your flashing spear.
There was anger in your stride, Oh Lord,
As you strode upon the earth
Threshing nations; calling Your anointed forth!
With his own spear You pierced the king of the land of wickedness
When he called all of his warriors out
To storm and scatter us.

Though the fig tree does not bud,
And, though no grapes cluster the arbor
Though the olive crop should fail
And, the fields bring forth no crops
Though no sheep are in the pen
And, no cattle in the stall.
Yet, will I rejoice in the Lord...
In the Lord my God!
My God! My God! My God!