To the glorious one, girdled by praise,
Great in deeds and tremendous in ways,
Who filleth with wonders our days,
Blow ye at New Moon the trumpet.

To the Lord whose decrees never fail,
Who spreadeth the clouds like a veil,
And maketh the dust hard as mail,
Blow ye at New Moon the trumpet.

To the Builder whose measures none knows,
By whom the high heavens arose,
And beauty like lightning that glows,
Blow ye at New Moon the trumpet.

To the Judge who His servants will spare,
For the souls of His faithful will care,
And will make their inheritance fair,
Blow ye at New Moon the trumpet.

To the Chief on whose breast Right is borne,
Who is served by the seed to Him sworn,
Who gathereth lilies from thorn,
Blow ye at New Moon the trumpet.

To the Washer who whiteneth sin,
Whose cloud blotteth evil within,
Whose forgiveness repentance can win,
Blow ye at New Moon the trumpet.

To the Alchemist turning his gold
To the diamond's perfection, clear, cold,
Like the streams that Damascus enfold,
Blow ye at New Moon the trumpet.

To the Lord who His scattered will keep,
To whom cries of the lowly that weep
Are dearer than bullocks or sheep,
Blow ye at New Moon the trumpet.
Translated by Israel Zangwill