Psalms 2

1 Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?

Whi gnastiden with teeth hethene men; and puplis thouyten veyn thingis?

2 The kings of the earth set themselves, and the rulers take counsel together, against the LORD, and against his anointed, saying,

The kyngis of erthe stoden togidere; and princes camen togidere ayens the Lord, and ayens his Crist?

3 Let us break their bands asunder, and cast away their cords from us.

Breke we the bondis of hem; and cast we awei the yok of hem fro vs.

4 He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them in derision.

He that dwellith in heuenes schal scorne hem; and the Lord schal bimowe hem.

5 Then shall he speak to them in his wrath, and trouble them in his great displeasure.

Thanne he schal speke to hem in his ire; and he schal disturble hem in his stronge veniaunce.

6 Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion.

Forsothe Y am maad of hym a kyng on Syon, his hooli hil; prechynge his comaundement.

7 I will declare the decree: the LORD hath said to me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee.

The Lord seide to me, Thou art my sone; Y haue gendrid thee to dai.

8 Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thy inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.

Axe thou of me, and Y schal yyue to thee hethene men thin eritage; and thi possessioun the termes of erthe.

9 Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel.

Thou schalt gouerne hem in an yrun yerde; and thou schalt breke hem as the vessel of a pottere.

10 Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth.

And now, ye kyngis, vndurstonde; ye that demen the erthe, be lerud.

11 Serve the LORD with fear, and rejoice with trembling.

Serue ye the Lord with drede; and make ye ful ioye to hym with tremblyng.

12 Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.

Take ye lore; lest the Lord be wrooth sumtyme, and lest ye perischen fro iust waie. Whanne his `ire brenneth out in schort tyme; blessed ben alle thei, that tristen in hym.