Robert Cooke - Why thus enraged, ye tribes profane? - текст песни (слова)

Why thus enraged, ye tribes profane?
 Why strive the Gentiles thus in vain?
 Why, rous'd by discord's fierce alarms,
 Do headlong nations rush to arms? 
 
 Earth's scepter'd lords rebellious rise
 Against the ruler of the skies,
 And him, on whose distinguish'd head
 His hand the sacred oil has shed. 
 
 In factious counsels thus they join
 And vaunting brave the pow'r divine:
 'Quick let us each renounce their sway,
 And cast their hated bands away.' 
 
 God from on high their threats shall hear,
 Laugh as the tumult meets his ear,
 And, arm'd with vengeance, thus aloud
 Superior quell the frantic crowd: 
 
 'Yet, mortals, yet your monarch see
 And bow to him the humble knee;
 His throne on Sion's hill my hand
 Has built, and what I build shall stand.'