The Lord unto My Lord Thus Spake

The Lord un­to my Lord thus spake:

Till I Thy foes Thy foot­stool make

Sit Thou in state at My right hand;

Supreme in Zi­on Thou shalt be

And all Thy proud op­pos­ers see

Subjected to Thy just com­mand.

Thee

in Thy pow­er’s tri­umph­ant day

The will­ing peo­ple shall ob­ey;

And

when Thy ris­ing beams they view

Shall all (re­deemed from er­ror’s night)

Appear more nu­mer­ous and bright

Than crys­tal drops of morn­ing dew.

The Lord hath sworn

nor sworn in vain

That

like Mel­chi­ze­dek’s

Thy reign

And priest­hood shall no pe­ri­od see;

Anointed Prince! Thou

bend­ing low

Shalt drink where dark­est tor­rents flow

Then raise Thy head in vic­to­ry!