Melodies I weave, songs I sweetly sing;
longing for Your Presence, to You I yearn to cling.
In Your shelter would my soul delight to dwell,
to grasp Your mystery, captured by Your spell.
Whenever I speak of Your glory so resplendent,
my heart yearns deeply for Your love transcendent.
Thus I glorify You in speech as in song,
declaring with my love: to You do I belong.
Without having seen You I declare Your praise;
without having known You I laud You and Your ways.
To Your assembled servants and in Your prophets’ speech,
You alluded to Your glory which is beyond our reach.
The scope of your greatness and he marvel of Your strength
are reflected in Your actions all described at length.
They have imagined You, but never as You are;
they tell of Your deeds, to portray You from afar.
They speak of You with parables in countless varied visions,
while You remain as One throughout all of their renditions.
They try to portray You as one now young, now old,
with hair now dark, now gray, as if it could be told.
Youth and force in battle, old age on judgment day;
like a seasoned warrior, with strength He clears the way.
He wears triumph as a helmet on His head,
His power and holiness have stood Him in good stead.
His head is covered with dawn-dew bathed in light,
His locks of hair are covered with dewdrops of the night.
He takes pride in me, the source of His delight;
and He will be my splendor whose praise I will recite.
His head is envisioned as pure and beaten gold,
bearing His holy name in letters large and bold.
With kindness and dignity, with splendor that they share,
His people Israel crown Him with their prayer.
Adorned is His head with the curly locks of youth,
black as a raven. He is splendid as the truth.
Nothing is more precious among all His good pleasures
than Zion, seat of splendor, chief among His treasures.
His cherished people adorn Him as a crown,
a royal diadem of beauty and renown.
He beautifies the people He has carried since their birth.
For Him they are precious; He pays honor to their worth.
In mutual devotion, in each other we glorify;
I know that He is near when unto Him I cry.
Radiant and ruddy, His garments red as wine,
He compresses sinning nations as grapes on a vine.
The knot of His tefilin He showed to Moses, humble, wise;
the Lord’s vision and His ways revealed only to his eyes.
Exalting the humble, enthroned upon their praise,
He takes pleasure in His people, exalted through heir ways.
Your word is based on truth from the start of all Creation;
since we always seek You, seek the welfare of our nation.
Cherish my plentitude of song as Your own;
may my verses be permitted to approach Your throne.
My praise I humbly offer as a crown upon Your head;
we no longer offer incense, accept my prayer instead.
May the words of this my song be precious as the Psalter
once offered in the Temple with sacrifice upon the altar.
May my prayer rise to the Creator of the miracle of birth,
Master of beginnings whose might and justice fill the earth.
And when I chant my prayer, may You greet it with assent;
the spirit of ancient offerings to You is my intent.
May You find sweet and pleasing my prayer and my songs;
my soul goes out in yearning, for You alone it longs.
The Ark is closed
Yours, O Lord, is the greatness and the power and the splendor. Yours is the triumph and the majesty, for all in the heavens and earth is Yours. Yours, O Lord, is supreme sovereignty. Who can recount the Lord’s mighty deeds, who can do full justice to His praise?
— Judah ben Samuel
German pietist, died February 22, 1217