With branches of the palm is strewed;
The multitudes are thronging fast
To see him as he rideth past.
They look for pomp and sovereignty,
Purple and gold and crown to see,
They bring the sick, the halt, the dumb.
The King is coming! Let him come.
The Christ is coming! Coarsely dressed
With sandalled feet and fisher’s vest,
His steed the lowly ass’s foal,