But through thy messengers prepare,
And hallow so our hearts, we pray,
That thou conceived being there,
The fruits of faith bring forth we may.
WHEN Jesus to Jerusalem,
And there to suffer rode,
The people all the way for him
With palm and garments strew'd;
And though he did full meekly ride,
And poorly on an ass,
Hosanna to the King! they cry'd,
As he along did pass.
His glory and his royal right,
Ev'n by a pow'r divine,
As if in worldly pomp's despite,
Through poverty did shine;
And though the greater sort did frown,
He exercis'd his pow'r,
Till he himself did lay it down
At his appointed hour.
Possession of his house he got,
The merchants thence expell'd;
And, though the priests were mad thereat, His lectures there he held.
Oh! how might any be so dull
To doubt who this should be,
When they did things so wonderful
And works so mighty see?
Lord! when to us thou drawest nigh,
Instruct us thee to know,
And to receive thee joyfully,
How mean soe'er in show;
Yea, though the rich and worldly wise,
When we thy praises sing,
Both thee and us therefore despise,
Be thou approv'd our king.
A HOLY sacrament this day
To us thou didst, O Lord! bequeath,
That by the same preserve we may
A bless'd memorial of thy death;
Whereof, O! let us so partake,
We may with thee one body make.
Thy holy supper being done,
The last which thou vouchsafedst here,
By thee the feet of ev'ry one
Of thy disciples washed were;
To which humility of thine
Our haughty minds do thou incline.
The rest of that day thou didst use
To pray, to comfort, and advise,
None might, when thou wert gone, abuse
Thy friends or make of them a prize;
Yet, when thy pleasure thou hadst said,
By one of thine thou wert betray'd.
And lo! that night they all did fly,
Who sate so kindly by thy side;
Ev'n he, that for thy love would die,
With oaths and curses thee deny'd;
Which to thy soul more nigh did go,
Than all the wrongs thy foes could do.
Sweet Jesus! teach us to conceive
How near unto thy heart it struck,
When thy beloved thee did leave,
And thou didst back upon him look;
May we hereafter nigh thee keep,
And for our past denials weep.
Yea, let each passage of this day
Within our hearts be graven so,
That mind them we for ever may,
And still thy promise trust unto;
So our affections shall to thee,
In life and death, unchanged be.
YOU that like heedless strangers pass along,
As if nought here concerned you to day,
Draw nigh and hear the saddest passion-song,
That ever you
did meet with in your way:
So sad a story ne'er was told before,
Nor shall there be the like for evermore.
The greatest king that ever wore a crown,
More than the basest vassal was abus'd;
The truest lover that was ever known,
By them belov'd was most unkindly us'd;
And he, that liv'd from all transgressions clear,
Was plagu❜d for all the sins, that ever were.
Ev'n they, in pity of whose fall he wept,
Wrought for his ruin, whilst he sought their good,
And watched for him when they should have slept,
That they might quench their malice in his blood;
Yet, when their bonds from him he could have
thrown,
To save their lives he deign'd to lose his own. Those in whose hearts compassion should have been,
Insulted o'er his poor afflicted soul;
And those that nothing ill in him had seen,
As guilty him accus'd of treason foul;
Nay, him that never had one idle thought,
They for blaspheming unto judgment brought;
Where, some to ask him vain demands begin,
And some to make a sport with him devise;
Some at his answers and behaviour grin,
And some do spit their filth into his eyes;
Some give him blows, some mock, and some
revile,
And he, good heart! sits quiet all the while.
O! that where such a throng of men should be,
No heart was found so gentle to relent;
And that so good and meek a lamb as he
Should be so us'd, and yet no tear be spent!
Sure, when once malice fills the heart of man, Nor stone nor steel can be so harden'd then. For, after this, his clothes from him they stript, And then, as if some slave this Lord had been, With cruel rods and scourges him they whipt, Till wounds were over all his body seen;
In purple clad, and crowned too with thorn, They set him forth and honour'd him in scorn. And when they saw him in so sad a plight, As might have made a flinty heart to bleed, They not a whit recanted at the sight, But in their hellish fury did proceed:
Away with him! Away with him! they said; And crucify him! crucify him! cry'd. A cross of wood, that huge and heavy was, Upon his bloody shoulders next they lay, Which onward to his execution-place He carried, till he fainted in the way;
And, when he thither weak and tired came, To give him rest they nail'd him to the same. Oh! could we but the thousandth part relate Of those afflictions, which they made him bear, Our hearts with passion would dissolve thereat, And we should sit and weep for ever here; Nor should we glad again hereafter be, But that we hope in glory him to see. For while upon the cross he pained hung, And was with foul tormentings also griev'd, Far more than can be told by any tongue, Or in the hearts of mortals be conceiv'd,
Those, for whose sake he underwent such pain, Rejoic'd thereat, and held him in disdain.
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