What Easter Means To Me
Palm Sunday start of Holy Week
is here and our Jesus will speak
to all of His palm waving friends.
I push my way through crowds to see
this loved Rabbi from Gallilee,
aware not how the story ends.
We’re told in Mark, Matthew, Luke and John
of the excitement going on.
Our Messianic King has come.
we throw our garments at his feet
so eager we, our King to meet.
But He is not beloved by some.
He knows the fate awaiting there,
an ending he will not yet share.
Triumphant shouts and welcomes ring.
He still has words we need to hear.
He speaks and all the thousands cheer.
He does not tell the dreadful thing
Awaiting Him at Calvary;
the Cross and punishment to be.
Only we few will follow there.
We only have a few short days,
in which to listen, sing his praise;
before His burden He must bear.
On Good Friday the world will dim
and bitter tears will fall for Him.
We’ll follow Him to His cold grave.
On the third day, stone will be rolled.
We’ll long recall what we were told,
He had to die our souls to save.
But first must come the Holy Week,
and dread betrayal of the meek
and saintly Man who loves us so.
He’ll walk the path this Holy Week
with all the torture it will wreak
to fate that only He can know.
The cheering voices will be still
as He bows to His Father’s will.
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