Wherefore do the nations rage,
And the people vainly dream,
That in triumph they can wage
War against the King supreme?
Christ His Son a scoff they make
And the rulers plotting say:
Their dominion let us break,
Let us cast their yoke away.
But the Lord will scorn them all,
Calm He sits enthroned on high;
Soon His wrath will on them fall,
Sore displeased He will reply:
Yet according to My will
I have set My King to reign,
And on Zion’s holy hill
Mine Anointed I maintain.
This His word shall be made known,
This Jehovah’s firm decree:
Thou art My belovèd Son,
Yea, I have begotten Thee.
All the earth at Thy request
I will give Thee for Thine own;
Then Thy might shall be confessed
And Thy foes be overthrown.
Therefore, kings, be wise, give ear;
Hearken, judges of the earth;
Learn to serve the Lord with fear,
Mingle trembling with your mirth.
Kiss the Son, lest o’er your way
His consuming wrath should break;
But supremely blest are they
Who in Christ their refuge take.