Lord, we would fain some little palm-branch lay
Upon thy way;
But we have nothing fair enough or sweet
For holy feet
To tread, nor dare our sin-stained garments fling
Upon the road where rides the Righteous King.
Yet thou, all-gracious One, didst not refuse
Those fickle Jews;
And even such worthless leaves as we may cull,
Faded and dull,