The seven heavens cannot Thee enfold,
Sustained by Thee, they do not Thee sustain.
They hymn Thee since Thou madest them of old,
And when they perish, Thou shalt still remain,
O mighty God!

The messengers of heaven Thee revere.
They stand to praise Thee in Thine inmost shrine,
Yet from beholding Thee they shrink in fear,
For how behold the dazzling dread Divine?
O Lord, my God!

What voice is this that singeth without cease
And spends in song to Thee its nights and days?
But Thou, omnipotence beyond increase,
Art high--I know--uplifted over praise,
O Lord, my God!

So great Thy majesty and manifold,
How canst Thou lodge in tabernacle's span?
Such glory no circumference can hold,
For Thou art vastly mightier than man,
O Lord, my God!

He at whose feet celestial creatures creep
A day of liberation will proclaim,
And from all corners call his scattered sheep,
However sorry-looking they or lame,
The Lord, my God!
Translated by Israel Zangwill