Elohai’n’shamah’shenatata’bi’t’horah’hi. 

My God, the soul You gave me is pure.
You created it; You sculpted it; You breathed it inside of me; You protect it.
At some future time, You will draw it forth from me
And give it back in theWorld to Come.But all the time it remains in me, I shall give You thanks.
My God, God of those who lived before me,
Author of all works, Protector of all souls.
You who restore the soul to the body of us all, You are praised.

Praise Me, says God, and I will know that you love Me.
Curse Me, I will know that you love Me.
Praise Me or curse Me, I will know that you love Me.
Sing out My graces, says God.
Raise your fist against Me and revile, says God.
Sing My graces or revile, reviling is also praise, says God.
But if you sit fenced off in your apathy,
Entrenched in “I couldn’t care less,” says God,
If you look at the stars and yawn, says God,
If you see suffering and don’t cry out,
If you praise and don’t revile,
Then I created you in vain, says God.