In the great gathering will I laud God the Mighty, the Warrior. I prize His sweet gifts, who pours bounty like golden drops. Let my songs reach Him, whose glory is golden light.

2 Ye who in concert sing unto the golden-lighted place, like swift coursers driving onward to the heavenly seat, laud ye the strength of God the Mighty, whom the kine content with golden milk.

3 His is that thunderbolt, golden-hued, very dear, bright, destroying with its tawny rage. From God are all forms of golden hue.

4 The golden bolt spread out as a lovely ray laid upon the sky, as in a race; that iron bolt smote the serpent down. A thousand flames had the bolt that God wielded.

5 Thou, when praised by men who sacrificed of old, didst accept their lauds, O God. All that befits Thy song of praise Thou acceptest, the perfect pleasant gift.