Palm Sunday

The street stands crowd­ed from wall to wall.

Yon He­brew boy

come here

I pray

And tell me what has suf­ficed to call

Such mul­ti­tude abroad to­day.

Friend

do you see up­on yon­der hill

Where winds the road round Ol­ive’s brow?

“Lad

I see on­ly the sun­shine still

And rag­ged trees and dust be­low.

While on the path

some wea­ry men

With one in their midst

as poor as they

Is much be­spent

for I see again

He rides an ass

and draws this way.

“I

strang­er

ma­ny a month be­fore

Stood on the coast of Gen­ne­sa­ret’s sea;

In wick­er basket

some loaves I bore

From home

my mo­ther prepared for me.

“Now strang­er

just at the set of sun

He that was teach­ing called me near;

‘Your loaves will you give?’ ‘Ev­ery one!’

I said

and gave them with ne’er a fear.

“Well

strang­er

five thou­sand men and more

Had heard the teach­er’s words that day

And these were hung­ry; He bless­ed my store

And fed them all

and sent away.

Now strang­er

rides to­ward the gate

The teach­er

He that spoke that day;

I seek Him now

would not be late—

Keep me no long­er; I can­not stay.

Hosanna! down from the hill they cry

Hosanna! comes back from town be­low

With hom­age meet and hon­or high

At Christ’s dear feet green palms they throw.