Today, they shout "Crucify!"...and He says "Father, forgive them..."

Sometimes they strew His way
And His sweet praises sing
Resounding all the day
Hosannas to their King
Then "Crucify!" is all their breath
And for His death they thirst and cry
("My Song Is Love Unknown," v 3)


What fading flow'rs His road adorn
The palms, how soon laid down!
No bloom or leaf but only thorn
The King of Glory's crown
The soldiers mock
The rabble cries
The streets with tumult ring
As Pilate to the mob replies,
"Behold, behold your King!"
("No Tramp of Soldiers' Marching Feet," v 3)



The Lamb, the Lamb
One perfect final offering...

The Lamb, the Lamb
As wayward sheep their shepherd kill
So still His will
On our behalf the Law to fill
Worthy is the Lamb
Whose blood makes me His own...
(from "The Lamb," v 2 and 3)