As though walking upon the stars, our feet felt none of their sharp points of light, but glided silently over the surface of the deep. With every foot fall, phosphorescence sparkled underfoot, like fireflies dancing in the wet sand, or light fairies from some long-forgotten sunken Altantis. Luther spoke well when he declared, “God writes the Gospel not in the Bible alone, but also on trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars.” My mind recalled the song of the morning stars as expressed in the Song of Creation, found in Job 38.
Where were you when I laid
the earths foundation?
Tell me, if you understand.
Who marked off its dimensions?
Surely you know!
Who stretched a measuring line across it?
On what were its footings set,
Or who laid its cornerstone—
While the morning stars sang together
And all the angels shouted for joy?