The Lord said unto my Lord,

"Sit Thou at My right hand;

Thy foes shall be Thy footstool,

Upon them Thou shalt stand."

The sceptre of Thy strength shall

The Lord from Zion send

To rule o'er all the nations

Forever 'til the end.

A voluntary offering,

The young ones are to Thee;

In consecration's splendor

How beautiful to see!

For as the dew of morning

Refreshes all the land —

The young ones given to Thee

Are precious in Thy hand.

The Lord hath sworn forever

And never will turn back,

"Thou art a priest forever,

As was Melchizedek."

Oh, Thou hast no beginning

Of days; of life: no end!

And on Thine intercession

We ever do depend.

The Lord is at Thy right hand

And in His day of wrath

He'll strike through rulers, judging

The nations in His path.

While riding on to triumph

He'll drink of us, the stream,

His head uplifted, strengthened,

The whole earth to redeem.

Oh Lord, Thou art ascended

To God's right hand to sit;

As Head o'er all things, to Thee

God doth Thy foes commit.

Our King — for us Thou reignest,

Our Priest — we are supplied,

Our all we give unto Thee,

Thou Conqueror glorified.