Why do the heathen rage in vain array,
And peoples plot with empty schemes so bold?
The kings of earth conspire in proud display,
Against the LORD and His Anointed hold.
“Let us their bands asunder break,” they cry,
“And cast their cords from us in fierce disdain.”
But He who sitteth in the heavens high
Shall laugh, the Lord shall mock them in His reign.
Then in His wrath shall He to them declare,
And vex them sorely in displeasure’s fire:
“Yet have I set My king with holy care
Upon My hill of Zion, My desire.”
Now I will tell decrees that He hath spoken:
“Thou art My Son; this day have I begot Thee.
Ask, and the heathen for Thine own I’ll token,
The earth’s far ends Thy possession shall be.
“Thou shalt them break with rod of iron stern,
And dash them as a potter’s vessel frail.”
Be wise therefore, O kings; ye judges, learn;
Serve ye the LORD with fear, rejoice, yet quail.
Kiss ye the Son, lest anger kindle swift,
And ye perish in the way when wrath awakes.
For but a little kindled is His rift;
Blest all who in Him trust, whom mercy takes.
imaginate.pro 