God dwelleth high above man's dwelling-place,
Ye multitudes, come praise and honour Him,
Huzzah before the King whose name is God,
Sound joyous flourishes upon the trumpet.
His creatures fear His glory more than man
When awful deeds are wrought, for dread is He.
The day shall be when at the sound of trumpet
Thy people to the Mount of Olives flock,
And they, according to Thy word, shall go
With shouting and with tumult and perceive
The thunders, lightnings, and the trumpet's sound.
Regard the people nestling in Thy shadow,
And trustfully proclaiming that perchance
Again the Lord of hosts will gracious be
And marvels once again be wrought in thunder
And lightning and thick cloud upon the Mount
And pealing of the Shofar. Consecrate
Yourselves again to-day unto His service,
And should again your glad redemption dawn,
Uplift yourselves sublime above all else,
And mark the banner flown upon the mountains
What time the horn resounds. O Lord, whose dread
Sets all the world's inhabitants a-tremble,
Be herald of good tidings to the people,
So staunch beneath the adversary's yoke.

Thus when the ram's horn poureth forth its note
And ye shall hear the Shofar's long-drawn peal,
Thanksgiving offer up to God and song,
And tell His mighty deeds and chant His praise
According to the measure of His greatness.
O praise Him with the sounding of the trumpet,
So shall the Merciful show graciousness
To you who cry, and as of old restore
Your captives, yea the Lord of hosts o'er you
Shall keep His watch, with trumpet-blasts for warning.
Translated by Israel Zangwill