Psal. II Done into verse

Why do the Gentiles tumult, and the Nations     Muse a vain thing, the Kings of th'earth upstand     With power, and Princes in their Congregations     Lay deep their plots together through each Land,     Against the Lord and his Messiah dear.     Let us break off; say they, by strength of hand     Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear,     Their twisted cords: he who in Heaven doth dwell     Shall laugh, the Lord shall scoff them, then severe     Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell     And fierce ire trouble them; but I saith hee     Anointed have my King (though ye rebell)     On Sion my holi' hill. A firm decree     I will declare; the Lord to me hath say'd     Thou art my Son I have begotten thee     This day, ask of me, and the grant is made;     As thy possession I on thee bestow     Th'Heathen, and as thy conquest to be sway'd     Earths utmost bounds: them shalt thou bring full low     With Iron Sceptir bruis'd, and them disperse     Like to a potters vessel shiver'd so.     And now be wise at length ye Kings averse     Be taught ye Judges of the earth; with fear     Jehovah serve and let your joy converse     With trembling; Kiss the Son least he appear     In anger and ye perish in the way     If once his wrath take fire like fuel sere.     Happy all those who have in him their stay.