Lord of the world, O hear my psalm,
And as sweet incense take my plea.
My heart hath set its love on Thee
And finds in speech its only balm.

This thought forever haunts my mind,
Some day to Thee I must return,
From Thee I came and backward yearn
My very fount and source to find.

Not mine the merit that I stand
Before Thee thus, since all is Thine,
The glorious work of force divine,
No product of my heart or hand.

My soul to Thee was humbly bent
Even before she had her birth,
Before upon the sphere of earth
Her heav'nly greatness made descent.
Translated by Israel Zangwill