To the chief musician on wind instruments, a Psalm of David
And why do the nations churn, ponder vain things?
The rulers all gather, to stand with earth’s kings.
Against His Anointed, they say of the Lord:
Let’s break all their bands off and cast off their cord.
The Lord sits in heaven; He laughs and decries.
Then shouts in His anger; in wrath terrifies.
And yet I have set My King on Zion’s hill,
declaring the message: the Lord will fulfill:
For You are my Son and begotten this day.
The nations inherit; I’ll give if you pray.
The ends of the earth, will Your’s certainly be.
With iron staff, You’ll smash them, like cracked pottery.
Be wise now you kings and earth judges be taught.
In awe serve Jehovah; rejoice while fear-fraught.
The Son will be angry, so kiss Him today;
His wrath will be kindled; you’ll perish in the way.
How fortunate, blessed and envied are those
who trust Him, take refuge, and in Him repose.