The dubious lark of prophets,
The great Creator's promises,
Then, Isaiah did sound it;
Just like a resounding gong,
Shouting gong of promises.

Like a pot filled and poured,
Fulfilment of the sound,
God's own son being birthed;
Joyous smile of the star,
Government upon his shoulder.

Became sin, slain and was slaughtered,
All, not for him but for us all,
Deceased lamb now a living King;
We have gotten a peaceful King,
Government upon his shoulder.

Soon, return he as a lion,
With a Sceptre to judge our deed,
Hark!, Prince of peace will come soon;
Hark!, indeed, the lion will come,
Isn't the government upon his shoulder?