Christ Jesus, on Sunday, you rode into town;
The crowds laid their coats and some palms on the ground.
They made you a welcome and called you their king,
But they did not know of the reign you would bring.
Christ Jesus, on Monday, you went up to pray;
The sellers were filling the Temple that day.
But who could be reverent? That courtyard was loud;
You overturned tables, dispursing the crowd.
Christ Jesus, on Thursday, you readied a place;
You hosted a meal and you offered the grace.
You told your disciples, “Now eat of this bread,”
“Now drink of the cup of salvation,” you said.
With basin and towel, with washing of feet,
You showed us where love and humility meet.
You loved till your love led to suffering and loss;
You knelt down to serve us, then hung on a cross.
On Friday, you died, and the next day was bleak.
O Christ, we remember your whole Holy Week.
We can’t avoid suffering, or turn from what’s true,
For out of your death, we find new life in you.
Biblical References: Matthew 21:1-17; 26-28; John 13:1-17
Tune: ST. DENIO 11. 11. 11. 11 (“Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise”) Traditional Welsh hymn, in John Roberts’ Caniadau y Cyssegr (Songs of the Sanctuary), 1839.
Text: Copyright © 2017 by Carolyn Winfrey Gillette. All rights reserved.