Psalm 2

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;
Subject all Nations to thy Throne;
And make the Sea-bound Earth thine owne.

Thou shalt an Iron Scepter sway,
Like earthen vessels breake their bones.
Be wise, O you who sit on Thrones;
And Iudges grave advice obey:
With joyfull Feare O serve the Lord;
With trembling Joy embrace his Word.

In due of Homage kisse the Sonne,
Lest He his wrathfull lookes display;
And so you perish in the way,
His anger newly but begunne:
Then blessed onely are the Just,
Who on th' Anointed fixe their trust.