Dusty hosanna

Hosannas rise on dusty roads,
Where humble feet and hope once strode,

A borrowed colt, a quiet King,
No crown of gold, yet heaven’s ring.

The palms are laid, the voices soar,
“Blessed is He forevermore,”

Yet in the breeze, a shadow sways—
A cross awaits these fleeting praise.

The city stirs, the hearts divide,
Some kneel in faith, some turn aside,

Still mercy walks through every cheer,
Through doubt, through joy, through silent fear.

O fragile cries that fill the air,
How soon they fade, how few will care—

Yet love rides on, though fate is grim,
For every soul, for all, for Him.