See, O ancient city, chosen of God,
Your king has come, upon a donkey’s colt
In humble triumph and in lowly state:
For he needs not your cheers to make him Lord,
But well deserves them for the mighty act
He’ll pass between your door-posts to perform.
But, faithless city, whom the prophets warned
Until their words were silenced by your stones,
Behold the Man of whom the prophets spoke:
Redemption, if you turned to him to heed,
But should you set your hearts against his claim,
You bring that judgment’s doom upon your head.
I wrote this poem earlier this week, thinking about the Gospels’ accounts of Palm Sunday.
As always, I earnestly welcome your comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. (In other words, if you liked this poem, or you didn’t like it, or it made you think of something, or … please leave a comment to let me know.) If you liked this, you can follow this blog, which includes one of my poems every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written here on my blog (starting with those linked from one of the “archive ” installments, since the full archive is by now, at well over a hundred poems, somewhat daunting); I’d especially like to know, as part of my preparations for a collection, which poems you think are my best. You may also share it with others, subject to my sharing policy.
This poem is also archived on my wiki.
- “Catechesis” (shinecycle.wordpress.com)