other translations - Finzi

God is gone up with a triumphant shout
The Lord with sounding trumpets’ melodies
Sing praise, sing praise, sing praise, sing praises out
Unto our King sing praise seraphic-wise
Lift up your heads, ye lasting doors, they sing
And let the King of Glory enter in.

Methinks I see Heaven’s sparkling courtiers fly
In flakes of glory down, him to attend
And hear heart-cramping notes of melody
Surround his chariot as it did ascend
Mixing their music, making every string
More to enravish, as they this tune sing.