Palm Sunday

Here it is, Sunday night, and I'm blogging AGAIN. Seriously...I cannot continue at this rate, or I will literally get nothing else accomplished. But before I dive into the pile of papers I must grade before bed, I wanted to post a hymn we sang at church tonight.

I love Palm Sunday. Love it. There's something about the image of Jesus, with his jaw set like flint, riding into Jerusalem with such steady, unwavering decisiveness that leaves me astonished everytime I think about it. I am once again astounded at the depth and changeless nature of his love.

Here's the hymn.

Who is This so Weak and Helpless
Words by William Walsham How, 1867

Who is this, so weak and helpless,
child of lowly Hebrew maid,
Rudely in a stable sheltered,
coldy in a manger laid?
'Tis the Lord of all creation,
who this wondrous path has trod;
He is God from everlasting,
and to everlasting God.

Who is this, a Man of sorrows,
walking sadly life's hard way,
Homeless, weary, sighing,
weeping over sin and Satan's sway?
'Tis our God, our glorious Savior,
who above the starry sky
Is for us a place preparing,
where no tear can dim the eye.

Who is this? Behold Him shedding
drops of blood upon the ground!
Who is this, despised, rejected,
mocked, insulted, beaten, bound?
'Tis our God, who gifts and graces
on His church is pouring down;
Who shall smite in holy vengeance
all His foes beneath His throne.

Who is this that hangs there dying
while the rude world scoffs and scorns,
Numbered with the malefactors,
torn with nails, and crowned with thorns?
'Tis our God who lives forever
'mid the shining ones on high,
In the glorious golden city,
reigning everlastingly.