Palm Sunday (Elizabeth Lavers, Entry into Jerusalem)
We made our slow way up from Jericho, a steep, rocky climb,
Dusty and long. We were fearful of what lay ahead,
But we would all follow the Master wherever he went -
‘Let us go with him, to die with him’, as Thomas said.
At Bethany, set in its green, smiling, well-tended fields,
We were made welcome, as always, and stayed there to rest.
Many men crowded in, on the way to the Passover feast,
To see Lazarus, back from the grave, and the Master, his guest.
Then word went ahead to Jerusalem: Jesus was near,
And would arrive before long; people kept a look out.
As he came into view on the road from Mount Olivet
From across the valley of Kedron we heard a great shout.
‘Hosanna!’ They hailed him, ‘Hosanna to David’s great Son!’
A carpet was spread by the pilgrims for him as he passed,
And the donkey he rode picked its way over cloaks and green palms,
Down the hill, up the rise, to the gates of the city at last.
As the Messiah rode in with his message of peace
Which, if they heard and believed it, would set them all free,
Richly dressed Pharisees, squawking like peacocks, enraged,
Tried vainly to silence the crowds roaring like a great sea
‘Hosanna! Hosanna to the Son of David!’