The tears that wet the soil
Beneath the Master’s feet
Hushed the roaring praises of the crowd.
And calmed the pious anger
Of the prideful Pharisees
Even they refused to make a sound.
They’d cried, “the king has come!”
“The promised one of old!”
“Hosanna, He has come to bring us peace!”
Such joyous praise and song
And triumph in the air
But how is it that Jesus now can weep?
As if he mourned a friend
As if he’d lost someone
He wept like someone kneeling at the tomb.
Jerusalem below his gaze
He cried like he was at her grave
As he began to speak of coming doom.
“If you had only known,” he said
“What makes for peace,” he shook his head
“But now your eyes are blind to what is true.”
“All these days you’ve looked for me
For rescue from captivity
But missed the day I came to visit you.”