1 O King, I would turn You hither to this our worship with gifts and homage.

Held in both arms the ladle, dropping fatness, goes of itself to Your altar, You of varied forms of power.

2 Heaven quickens and promotes Your high dominion who bind with bonds not wrought of rope or cordage.

Far from us still be the displeasure of the All-Seeing: may the Mighty give us spacious room to dwell in.

3 Make You our worship fair amid the assemblies: make You our prayers approved among our princes.

May God-sent riches come for our possession: further You us with Your delightful succours.

4 O God, vouchsafe us riches with store of treasure, food, and every blessing;

For the Banisher of falsehood, the Hero, dealeth wealth in boundless plenty.

5 May this my song reach God, the All-Seeing, the Mighty, and, strongly urging, win me sons and offspring.

To the banquet of the righteous may we go with riches. Preserve us evermore with blessings.