PSALME. II.
BASS. 〈♫〉〈♫〉
CANT. 〈♫〉〈♫〉
HOwe are the Gentiles all on fire!
Why rage they with vaine menacings;
Earths haughtie Potentates and Kings,
'Gainst God against his Christ conspire:
Breake we, say they, their servile bands,
And cast their cords from our free hands.
But God from his coelestiall Throne
Shall laugh, and their attempts deride;
Then high incenst, thus checke their pride;
(His Wrath in their confusion showne)
Loe, I my King have crown'd, and will
Inthrone on Sions sacred Hill.
That great Decree I shall declare:
For thus I heard Iehovah say;
Thou art my Sonne begot this day:
Request, and I will grant thy praier;