At The Dawn Poem by Shlomo ibn Gabirol

At the dawn I seek Thee,
Rock and refuge tried,
In due service speak Thee
Morn and eventide.

'Neath Thy greatness shrinking,
Stand I sore afraid,
All my secret thinking
Bare before Thee laid.

Little to Thy glory
Heart or tongue can do;
Small remains the story,
Add we spirit too.

Yet since man's praise ringing
May seem good to Thee,
I will praise Thee singing
While Thy breath's in me.


Translated by Israel Zangwill