“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.
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.
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.
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.
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.