Out of the Mouths of Babes

Loudly the children
Sang praises at his coming,
Lading the cobbles
With branches of the palm.

Paying him homage
With blended hearts and voices,
Gracing his entrance
With echoes of the psalm:

“Bless’ed is he that
Cometh in the Lord’s name,
Jesus, Hosanna
To David’s greater son!”

“Daughter of Zion,
Your King is at the threshold,
Bringing salvation,
This meek and lowly one.”

No prancing charger
To bear the Prince of Ages,
Only a donkey,
At peaceful, plodding pace.

No blasting herald
Announcing great deliverance,
Only the simple
With song, perfecting praise.

Bless’ed these child-like
Who see their King so plainly,
Bringing their problems
And needs to one so kind.

Theirs is the conquest
Which passes understanding.
Theirs is the Kingdom
The learn’ed cannot find.

Rejoice greatly. O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem: behold, thy King cometh unto thee: he is just, and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass.


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