Henry Hart Milman
Ride on, ride on in majesty! Hark, all the tribes hosanna cry, thy humble beast pursues his road with palms and scattered garments strowed.
Ride on, ride on in majesty! In lowly pomp ride on to die, O Christ thy triumph now begin o’er captive death and conquered sin.
Ride on, ride on in majesty! The winged squadrons of the sky look down with sad and wond’ring eyes to see the approaching sacrifice.
Ride on, ride on in majesty! Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh; the Father on his sapphire throne awaits his own anointed Son.
Ride on, ride on in majesty! In lowly pomp ride on to die; bow thy meek head to mortal pain, then take, O God, thy power and reign.
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