The children rushed to see Him, shouting as they came,
“He’s coming!” rang throughout the streets, all knowing of His fame.
They laughed and danced and cried for joy because the King was near,
And all rushed out to see Him: the One they loved so dear.
“It’s Jesus, the One from Nazareth, He healed my son, you know.”
“And I can see!” the blind man cried. “He spoke, and it was so.”
And so they came, hearts full of joy, for surely He would rule;
The prophets said He’d come this way—Messiah, King of all!
And as He rode and saw their joy, and listened to their cries,
He also saw the mocking jeers, their shouts to crucify.
“Mama, see there—a single tear rests on His holy cheek.”
“It cannot be, my child, for He is King of all, you see.”
But though the others only saw the King they sought to reign,
The child saw beyond the pomp and cried the Savior’s name.
He looked her way and gave a nod that others did not see.
“Be brave, my child,” His eyes relayed. “All this was meant to be.”
The King they sought would one day ride into this city bright,
With blood-red vestures and a crown, upon a charger white.
And though that day was far away, He saw His kingdom too,
A kingdom filled with blood-washed saints because of what He’d do.
“Hosanna, to the King of King! He comes in the name of the LORD!”
They strewed the streets for Jesus—the One whom they adored.
He loved them for their loyalty when they had given their best,
And He would love them from the cross, when they had done their worst.
How many more will cry, “Hosanna!” on the day prescribed,
And yet tomorrow at the shop, forget He lived and died
To pay sin’s price, to give us life? And can we live for Him
A few days out of every year, and live the rest in sin?