Through the heavenly casements
A gentle music rings;
Through the clear and cloudless sky
Sounds a low, soft melody
And all the welkin rings:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts.

The rainbow in the firmament
Is shot with colors three,
And in those threefold tints and flames
The glory of the Lord proclaims,
A threefold litany:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts.

Enoch, who from mortal flesh
Was turn'd by God to flame,
to Sits like a teacher in the height,
Imparting to the Sons of Light
The song which they declaim:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts.

The while the Angel of the Law
Takes in his hand the fire,
And as he wreathes a crown with it,
To crown the words of Holy Writ,
Sings with the heavenly choir:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts.

And he who is the Prince of Storms,
Whose winds do rage and roar,
Repeats in every thunder-crash,
Retells in every lightning flash,
The threefold message o'er:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts.

All the great lights of heaven,
Bear and Orion bright,
Proclaim the constancy of Him
Whose light ne'er darkens nor grows dim
Nor ever fades from sight:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts.

The curtain-folds of heaven
Are hung with tinkling bells;
When they by morning winds are stirred,
A music of the spheres is heard,
As each one rings and tells:
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts.

— Amittai ben Shephatiah (d. 1171)