Classic Poem

How are the Gentiles all on fire!
Why rage they with vain menacings?
Earth's haughty potentates and kings
'Gainst God, against His Christ conspire:
Break we, say they, their servile bands,
And cast their cords from our free hands.

But God from his caelestial throne
Shall laugh, and their attempts deride;
Then high incens'd, thus check their pride,
(His wrath in their confusion shown):
Lo! I my King have crown'd, and will
Enthrone on Sion's sacred hill.

That great decree I shall declare;
For thus I heard Jehovah say:
Thou art My Son, begot this day;
Request, and I will grant Thy pray'r,
Subject all nations to Thy throne,
And make the sea-bound earth Thine own.

Thou shalt an iron sceptre sway,
Like earthen vessels, break their bones.
Be wise, O you who sit on thrones;
And judges grave advice obey:
With joyful fear O serve the Lord;
With trembling joy embrace His word.

In due of homage kiss the Son,
Lest He His wrathful looks display,
And so you perish in the way,
His anger newly but begun:
Then blessed only are the just,
Who on th' Anointed fix their trust.