Riding on a Donkey

You came at last, at last to the city,
That place of grandeur and squalor, righteousness and robbery.
You came knowing that this is where you had to be,
Knowing your arrival was the beginning of the end.
A week that changed the world.
You came in triumph, riding in to hosannas,
As king, acclaimed at last by Jerusalem.
You came not in splendour, with trappings and entourage,
But a humble servant, riding on a donkey.
We shout, “Make way, for Christ the King”,
We call you to ride on in majesty,
We fling wide the gates to welcome you,
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.
And yet we see meekness and majesty side by side,
We know our Lord came not to be served but to serve.
We meet the God who washes our feet.
We marvel at the servant king.
You came at last to where the people were,
A city of kings, governors, priests and soldiers,
And you came not for them but for the little people,
To bring good news to the poor.
But you did not come as we expected.
You did not come with trumpets and swords
To cut down enemies and drive out tyrants,
To make all kneel and tremble before you.
You came on a donkey, all simplicity,
While we shouted “Hosanna” to welcome you.
But soon our hosannas would turn sour,
Overrun with shouts of “Crucify!”
Because we could not cope with what we saw,
And followed the crowd, unthinkingly.
It had to happen, but we stood by and let it,
We made your death come about.
We turned on you, we ran from you,
We denied you three times.
We condemned you to death, and you took the cup,
You bore it humbly for all our sakes.
Riding in to hosannas, riding on a donkey,
Riding out to scorn, bearing your cross.
We drove you to death, yet in your death have hope,
For on the third day, you shall rise again.