Palm Sunday

Riding on a donkey fit for a King,
Unlike all others, passing through the crowd,
Cheering you on, their cheap hosannas ring,
Which shall sour into condemnation loud.
You ride into Death’s Kingdom, to the grave,
To raze the sorry mountains of our sin,
To spirits in prison a new path pave,
And against the Devil your triumph win.
You see the traitors in your midst and still,
You carry on, seeing your bitter death,
Determined to do your Father’s will,
To bear all agony with dying breath.
Riding your donkey journeying true,
Give me the grace Lord to journey with you.

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