3-7 God’s on his way again,retracing the old salvation route,Coming up from the south through Teman,the Holy One from Mount Paran.Skies are blazing with his splendor,his praises sounding through the earth,His cloud-brightness like dawn, exploding, spreading,forked-lightning shooting from his hand—what power hidden in that fist!Plague marches before him,pestilence at his heels!He stops. He shakes Earth.He looks around. Nations tremble.The age-old mountains fall to pieces;ancient hills collapse like a spent balloon.The paths God takes are olderthan the oldest mountains and hills.I saw everyone worried, in a panic:Old wilderness adversaries,Cushan and Midian, were terrified,hoping he wouldn’t notice them.