Palm Sunday

Behold the Lord to Zion rides,

And crowds hosannas sing;

They spread their garments in the way,

And hail Him as a king.

O Zion, blind with earthly pride,

Why couldst thou not behold

The Christ of God, whom sage and seer

From age to age foretold?

A King indeed, but not to reign

By power of earthly might;

The glory of whose royal state

Is hid from carnal sight.

Whose subjects are the souls of men

From thrall of darkness won;

Whose kingdom knows no bounds, within

The dawn and setting sun.

Behold thy King to Zion rides

Where He the cross shall bear;

And on that throne with blood bedecked,

His robe of purple wear;

Where slaves to sin His love shall view,

And from their bondage rise

To noble fealty, by the power

Of loving sacrifice.