behold our king by stella ashworth
Behold, your King comes riding low, Through gates where palms and praises flow. No sword He bears, no throne He claims, Yet angels whisper still His name.
The crowd exalts with loud acclaim, “Hosanna!” blessed is His name. They see a hope, a promised reign, But not the cross, nor yet the pain.
The Prophet’s voice from ages past, Declared this day would come at last: "On donkey’s colt, the Lord draws near, To rule in peace, not wrath or fear."
He sees beyond the cheering crowd, Beyond the robes and voices loud. He knows the cup He soon must take. For love of man, His heart will break.
Yet still He rides, with eyes like flame, On mission steeped in holy aim. To die, to rise, to break our chain. The Lamb once slain shall ever reign.
So let us lay our lives today, Like garments strewn along His way. For Christ has come, the door swung wide. Our humble King, now glorified.
By Stella Ashworth for Team Talk. © 2025 Stella Ashworth. All Rights Reserved.