I wait quietly for the day of calamity to come upon the people who attack us.  Though the fig tree does not blossom, and no fruit is on the vines; though the produce of the olive fails and the fields yield no food; though the flock is cut off from the fold and there is no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the God of my salvation.  God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, and makes me tread upon the heights.

These heights to which you bring us, Lord, are the heights of heaven: trust, joy and peace even in the midst of barrenness, dryness and aridity.  It is not by our own strength that these are obtained.

I wait quietly for the day of calamity to come upon the people who attack us.

The day of calamity will indeed come upon those invisible forces who would seek to rend us away from our source of life and light.  But they shall have their day of destruction before their eternal punishment.  After which we shall attain the heights and forevermore be freed of their disturbances.  From glory into glory, from height to new height shall we ascend, further up and further in, leaving the lowlands far behind, never more to be remembered.  Never more to be visited, banished from our memory, we shall be eternally safe and fear of loss shall not be possible.