Strew palms, strew palms upon the way,
With loud hosannas fill the air,
And greet thy King Who comes to-day,
To wear a crown, O Zion fair.

He mounts a throne with purple spread,
That issues from His wounded side,
And prickly thorns encrown His head,
In mockery of His kingly pride.

O people, blinded are your eyes,
The Gift of God you have not known;
And now the hope of ages dies,
And lo, the guilt is all your own.

Strew palms, strew palms, He comes again,
A King to reign, and not to die;
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Hosannas shout in loud refrain,
To rise re-echoing to the sky.

But, not enough, before Him fall,
His kingly grace repenting claim;
And He shall hear your humble call,
Above the shouting and acclaim.

Strew palms, strew palms! O Christ our King,
To Thee our fealty now we give,
And all the grateful homage bring
Of lives that for Thy service live.