Triumphant the borrowed colt bore through town
Messiah over palm branches thrown down.
Crowds gather ‘round to him, aloud they sing,
“Hosanna, save us! Blessed is the king
who comes in the name of the Lord,” and then,
“Glory in the highest. Peace in heaven.”
Such celebration for a king is fit,
yet Jesus on a humble beast is sit.
Young, old, and all into one voice doth meld.
Save for the Pharisees voices withheld.
“Rabbi, rebuke them,” they hiss and they jeer
a venomous threat as the the man draws near.
“I tell you the truth,” he replies a shout.
“If these go silent, the rocks shall cry out.”
mark t. collins 