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 My Anointed I maintain.
This His word shall be made known, This Jehovah's firm decree: Thou art my beloved Son, Yea, I have begotten Thee. All the earth at thy request I will give Thee for Thy 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.