God is with shouts gone up, the Lord with trumpets sounding high.
To him that rides on heav'ns of heav'ns, which he of old did found; Lo, he sends out his voice, a voice in might that doth abound.
Praise him with trumpet's sound; his praise with psaltery advance:
But then the Lord arose, as one that doth from sleep awake; And like a giant that, by wine refresh'd, a shout doth make:
With trumpets, cornets, gladly sound before the Lord the King.
Blow trumpets at new-moon, what day our feast appointed is: