Wherefore do the nations wage
War against the King of kings?
Whence the people’s maddening rage,
Fraught with vain imaginings?
Haughty chiefs and rulers proud
Forth in banded fury run,
Braving, with defiance loud,
God and His anointed Son.
Let us break their bonds in twain!
Let us cast their cords away!
But the Highest with disdain
Sees and mocks their vain array.
High on Zion I prepare
(Thus He speaks)
a regal throne;
Thou, My Prince, My chosen heir,
Rise to claim it as Thine own!
“Son of God, with God the same,
Enter Thine imperial dome!
Lo! the shaking heav’ns proclaim,
Mightiest Lord, Thy kingdom come.
Pomp or state dost Thou demand?
In Thy Father’s glory shine!
Dost Thou ask for high command?
Lo! the universe is Thine!
Ye who spurn His righteous sway,
Yet, ah yet, He spares your breath;
Yet His hand, averse to slay,
Balances the bolt of death.
Ere that dreadful bolt descends,
Haste before His feet to fall,
Kiss the scepter He extends,
And adore Him, Lord of all!