From the tomb Christ arose

The primrose trees sway in the breeze, their branches budding slowly.

The spring air’s fragrance carry their scent, where the wind blows lowly.

The sound of marching feet can be heard,

Miles away from hearts being stirred.

There’s a city up ahead with a noisy crowd, unsettled,

Gates open wide with branches laid upon the ground, dusty treaded.

There’s shouts being heard from the distance,

From men, women, children and infants.

Lined up on each side are too many to count.

“Hosannas” can be heard with each word they shout.

Though the crowd is pressing, there’s an awesome sight.

A man riding on a donkey named Jesus the Christ.

Some laid down palm branches; some held in their hands,

To hail this king riding upon Jerusalem lands.

“Hosanna in the highest!” They cheered with glee,

To Jesus of Nazareth, the king we see.

The celebration was grand; the whole city was there,

To welcome the master with their hearts of care.

Jesus loved the children as they waved with their smiles.

They remembered Jesus well, for they had followed him for miles.

Jesus healed the blind and made well the sick.

His love for people made some suspiciously slick.

Not all were happy in that crowd that day;

Some plotted and planned to make Jesus go away.

Into the ancient city Jesus rode.

The disciples also did abode.

Honor for the king of glory,

The beginning of salvation’s story.

Jesus later would be betrayed,

By one who, as a thief, would masquerade.

From a trusted friend to a now-thought foe,

Wicked people faced God below.

They accused and lied to the face of truth,

For a plotted plan and tainted loot.

Shouts of Hosanna to crucify,

To silence and ruthlessly pacify.

Scourged and beaten, Jesus endured,

To the cross for an atonement assured.

Mocked and humiliated, the evil plots insisted,

But yet for this work our Lord enlisted.

Endurance until “It is finished!”

The Lord remained and never resisted.

To seal forever a broken ridge,

The blood of Jesus made a bridge.

Six hours upon a cross that day,

From the truth and life, the only way.

Placed in a tomb dead, with a sealed stone,

Until three days, when from the tomb Christ arose.

Angela Chapman can be emailed at uponthehillangie@gmail.com.