The Lord said unto my Lord, Psalm 110:1–2
Sit Thou at My right hand, until I make Thine enemies Thy footstool. The Lord shall send the rod of Thy strength out of Zion: rule Thou in the midst of Thine enemies.
Spake the glorious Lord in Heaven,
Lord, be Thine this royal seat,
Till their armies thunder-riven
Bow the neck beneath Thy feet.
Lo, Thy standards proudly flowing,
Forth they fare the world to win,
Reign and prosper, overthrowing
All the lords of death and sin.
God with man, an infant tender
Of a stainless maiden born,
Elder than the day-star’s splendor,
Purer than the pearls of morn,
By the eternal oath appointed
Of the mystic order blest,
Thou art vested, throned, anointed,
Evermore a kingly priest.
When the doom of sin is sealèd
And the trump of judgment rings,
Darkly at Thy side revealèd
God shall bruise the godless kings.
Thou shalt judge amongst the heathen,
Thou shalt fill the world with dead;
Never shall Thy sword be sheathen,
Till it smite the apostate’s head.
But Thy spell of endless glory
Is to suffer and to die;
Kedron with its bitter story,
And the vale of agony.
Honor, blessing, virtue, merit
To the Father and the Son,
And the good and gracious Spirit,
While eternal ages run.