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The Eternal spoke to my chosen lord,
“Take your seat at my right hand,
And rest your feet upon the foe
Until they bow to my command.”
From Zion’s hill, your scepter’s reach
Shall stretch o’er every hostile land.
“Go forth,” He says, “and vanquish all,
Your royal word shall ever stand.”
And on the day your power is shown,
Your troops will come in holy array,
With willing hearts, a morning dew,
On sacred hills at break of day.
An oath the Lord has sworn in truth,
A vow no change can ever break:
“A priest forever you shall be,
Like Mystic Melchizedek.”
The Lord stands at your right, a sword,
His wrath makes tyrants bend the knee.
He judges nations from His throne,
The field of battle none can flee.
He scatters kings, the earth runs red,
A solemn harvest of the slain.
But from a wayside stream you’ll drink,
And rising, you will stand again.
