With rest­less and un­gov­erned rage
Why do the hea­then storm?
Why in such rash at­tempts en­gage,
As they can ne’er per­form?

The great in coun­sel and in might
Their va­ri­ous forc­es bring;
Against the Lord they all unite,
And His an­oint­ed king.

Must we sub­mit to Their co­mmands?
Presumptuously they say;
No, let us break Their slav­ish bands,
And cast Their chains away.

But God, who sits en­throned on high,
And sees how they combine,
Does their con­spir­ing strength de­fy,
And mocks their vain de­sign.

Thick clouds of wrath di­vine shall break
On His re­bel­lious foes;
And thus will He in thun­der speak
To all that dare op­pose:

Though mad­ly you dis­pute My will,
The king that I or­dain,
Whose throne is fixed on Zi­on’s hill,
Shall there se­cure­ly reign.

Attend, O earth, whilst I de­clare
God’s un­con­trolled decree;
“Thou art my Son, this day My heir
Have I be­got­ten Thee.

“Ask and re­ceive Thy full de­mands;
Thine shall the hea­then be;
The ut­most lim­its of the lands
Shall be pos­sessed by Thee.

Thy threat’n­ing scep­ter Thou shalt shake,
And crush them ev­ery­where;
As mas­sy bars of ir­on break
The pot­ter’s brit­tle ware.

Learn then, ye princ­es, and give ear,
Ye judg­es of the earth;
Worship the Lord with ho­ly fear;
Rejoice with aw­ful mirth.

Appease the Son with due re­spect,
Your time­ly hom­age pay;
Lest He re­venge the bold ne­glect,
Incensed by your de­lay.

If but in part His an­ger rise,
Who can en­dure the flame?
Then blest are they whose hope re­lies
On His most ho­ly name.