Sion, haste to meet thy king,
Psalms and glad hosannas sing,
Strew thy palms, thy garments spread,
For the Judge of quick and dead!
Meek, He rides upon the colt;
God, who wields the thunderbolt,
Lays His royal glory by
In our flesh for man to die.
Enter now the temple gate,
Where He stands in princely state;
Join the children’s song of praise
To the King of endless days.
For the Lord who comes with grace,
Soon shall show His shining face;
Christ, who for our sins atoned,
Comes ’mid angel hosts enthroned.
Heavens shall vanish like a scroll,
Sun and moons in darkness roll,
When the dead the trumpet hear,
When the judgment books appear.
On that day of doom and grace,
Grant us with Thy saints a place,
Save us from the realms of night,
Clothe us with eternal light.