BEAST OF BURDEN
I heard the voices, guessed the time had come
To leave, my childhood days were gone.
"My master needs him" were the words he said,
And from my mother I was swiftly led.
A coat was roughly thrown upon my back,
A man got on and urged me walk along the track.
Though He was heavy, He made my burden light,
I felt His power flow into me, His kingly might.
The crowd were noisy, casting clothing down,
Tearing branches from the palm trees all around.
They welcomed Him and cheered Him as we went along,
The rider calmed me midst the excited throng.
"Hosanna" was their cry, "Our blessed Lord is home,
The King of the Jews in triumph comes,
His throne to take, our enemies to thwart,
At last we will be free, we'll want for naught".
When our journey ended at the City Gate,
I rested by the roadside for the hour was late.
Tired from my work, but still elated by the task,
"Who was my precious burden?" I longed to ask.
Suddenly I was awakened from my dream
By the clamour of the crowd who round me teemed.
Could I be needed by the Master yet again?
Would He be riding me once more into Jerusalem?
He wore a crown of thorns upon His Head
As by rough soldiers He was led
To Golgotha where criminals were slain,
His agonising burden, the cross of sin and shame.
They shouted "Crucify Him" with voices loud and strong,
They who had cried "Hosanna" as they followed Him along.
Who was this Man of Sorrows who late in triumph came?
Who carries all our burdens, Do you know His name?“
I heard the voices, guessed the time had come
To leave, my childhood days were gone.
"My master needs him" were the words he said,
And from my mother I was swiftly led.
A coat was roughly thrown upon my back,
A man got on and urged me walk along the track.
Though He was heavy, He made my burden light,
I felt His power flow into me, His kingly might.
The crowd were noisy, casting clothing down,
Tearing branches from the palm trees all around.
They welcomed Him and cheered Him as we went along,
The rider calmed me midst the excited throng.
"Hosanna" was their cry, "Our blessed Lord is home,
The King of the Jews in triumph comes,
His throne to take, our enemies to thwart,
At last we will be free, we'll want for naught".
When our journey ended at the City Gate,
I rested by the roadside for the hour was late.
Tired from my work, but still elated by the task,
"Who was my precious burden?" I longed to ask.
Suddenly I was awakened from my dream
By the clamour of the crowd who round me teemed.
Could I be needed by the Master yet again?
Would He be riding me once more into Jerusalem?
He wore a crown of thorns upon His Head
As by rough soldiers He was led
To Golgotha where criminals were slain,
His agonising burden, the cross of sin and shame.
They shouted "Crucify Him" with voices loud and strong,
They who had cried "Hosanna" as they followed Him along.
Who was this Man of Sorrows who late in triumph came?
Who carries all our burdens, Do you know His name?“