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The Priestly King

Category: /General/

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Sit down at my right hand,
Make your foes a footstool;
For I know the demand,
That has made you a fool.

The Lord sends from Zion,
Of your mighty scepter;
Like a roaring lion,
To strike the deceiver.

Rule in the midst of foes,
As they will give freely;
For they know what one owes,
In all that is really.

For power on that day,
Being clothed from the womb;
The morning dew will pray,
You rested in the tomb.

Because the Lord has sworn,
And will not change His mind;
No longer will you mourn,
Comfort in joy, you find.

Christ is priest forever,
Over Melchizedek;
A King not to sever,
And be given respect.

The Lord is at your right,
He will shatter His wrath;
On kings with His pure light,
For obstructing their path.

He shall judge the pagan,
Judgment to the nation;
With their heart so harden,
Having no salvation.

Mass graves dug for their dead,
As corpses of heathen;
Will never see instead,
The beauty of Heaven.

He will shatter the chief,
Over vastness of earth;
Having sorrow and grief,
For seeing their true worth.

He will drink from the brook,
The streaming goes by way;
Thinks about those who forsook,
Never returned who stray.

Copyright © 2019 Richard Newton Sherrer

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