1 The Lord unto my Lord thus spake,
"Till I thy foes thy footstool make,
2 "sit thou in state at my right hand:
"Supreme in Sion thou shalt be,
"And all thy proud opposers see
"subjected to thy just command.

3 "Thee, in thy pow'r's triumphant day,
"The willing people shall obey:
"and, when thy rising beams they view,
"Shall all, redeem'd from error's night)
"Appear more numerous and bright
"as crystal drops of morning dew."

4 The Lord hath sworn, nor sworn in vain,
That, like Melchisedech's, thy reign
and priesthood shall no period know:
5 No proud competitor to sit
At thy right0hand will he permit,
but in his wrath crown'd heads o'erthrow.

6 And sentenc'd heathen he shall slay,
And fill with carcases his way,
till he hath struck earth's tyrants dead;
7 But in the high-way brooks shall first,
Like a poor pilgrim, slake his thrist,
and then in triumph raise his head.