What ayles this heathenish rage? What do thes people meane
To mutter murmures vaine?
Why do these earthly kings & lords such meeting make,
And councel joyntly take,
Against the Lord of Lords, the lord of every thing,
And his anoynted king?
Come, let us break their bonds, say they, & fondly say:
And cast their yoakes away.
But he shall them deride, who by the heavns is borne,
He shall laugh them to scorn,
And after speake to them, with breath of wrathful fire,
And vex them in his ire.
And say (O kings) yet have I set my King upon
My Holy Hill Syon;
And I will (sayeth His king) the Lords decree display,
And say that he did say:
Thou art my Son indeed, this day begott by me:
Ask I will give to thee,
The Heathen for thy Childs right, & will thy realme extend
Farr as Worlds farthest end.
With Iron scepter bruse thou shalt, & peece meale breake
These men like potshards weake.
Therefore (O kings), be wise, O rulers rule your mind,
That knowledg you may finde.
Serve God, serve him with feare: Rejoyce in him but so,
That joy with trembling go.
With loving homage kisse that only son he hath,
Least you enflame his wrath.
Whereof if but a sparke once kindled be, you all
From your way perish shall
And then they that in him their only trust do rest,
O they be rightly blest.