The streets were lined with waving palms,
Hosannas rose in joyful psalms.
The King rode in on borrowed steed,
To fill the world’s most urgent need.

On Monday’s path, He cleansed the place,
Where hearts had strayed from holy grace.
With righteous fire, He cast out wrong
His truth like thunder, clear and strong.

By Tuesday’s sun, He taught once more,
Of Heaven’s gate and mercy’s door.
The crowds grew still, the shadows near,
Yet still He spoke, though death drew near.

On Wednesday, silence cloaked the land,
Betrayal stirred in greed’s dark hand.
A kiss was planned, a coin was paid,
The Son of Man by friend betrayed.

Then Thursday came, the upper room,
A basin, bread, and coming gloom.
He broke the loaf, He blessed the cup,
And knelt to wash—then lifted up.

In midnight’s hush, in garden deep,
While others fled or fell to sleep,
He bore the weight, the crushing dread
“Thy will, not mine,” is what He said.

Friday’s sky turned black with grief,
The Lamb was slain, the thief found belief.
The veil was torn, the earth did shake
The curse of sin began to break.

On Saturday, the world stood still,
The tomb was sealed upon the hill.
Hope seemed lost, all dreams undone
Yet silence waited for the Son.

Then Sunday’s dawn lit up the skies,
The stone rolled back, the dead did rise!
No grave could hold, no seal contain
The Risen Lord who broke all chains.

So every step of Holy Week
Speaks to the soul of love we seek.
From palms to cross, from death to rise
Redemption’s gift before our eyes.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

Mat 21:9  And the multitudes that went before, and that followed, cried, saying, Hosanna to the Son of David: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest.