Be not a fickle people be
like unto them who cast their cloaks before He,
whose loud Hosannas rang
through the streets of Jerusalem,
whose joyous praises sang unto He who knew the hearts of them.
For soon a different procession didst grace the street
where yesterday the Burro-King the crowd didst greet,
a city now crowned with thorny violence,
and a people bowing down to another allegiance.
When the Reign of Christ seems imminent
tis easy to join the noisy congregants,
to shout, “Lord, here’s my cloak, my oath, my sicarii knife.
Give me thy yoke. To You, O King, I give my life.”
Yet when Caesar’s serpent head doth rear
and the temple presence hast disappeared,
when the silent grave reigns and hope is lost,
and Love screams in pain on a blood-soaked cross,
Lose not thy faith in the holy unseen,
for the Divine’s time frame is a divers thing.
Surrender not to the poisoned creep of fickleness.
But render thine all to your heart’s royal Guest.