What is this host

that streams in through the gate?

That laughs and speaks of glory

of triumph over hate?

Of people who have suffered

(unknown, unloved, unread)

subjected to the cross and stake

now marching from the dead?

–

How conquer you?

So many different walks:

Mothers, fishers, soldiers,

princes, plowmen talk.

What is this common triumph

that shines inside your eyes

a light of open kindliness

what is your glorious prize?

–

We triumph not

our glory’s not our own

we fail like flesh, for flesh we are

our hearts were hard as stone.

The march that we are marching

is in Another’s name

we walk alive in glory

for He bore away our shame.

–

Look—see the king!

He stands on yonder hill

we go to Him with hurry

for His love is all our will.

Will you not journey with us?

Come, there’s space inside the throng.

For He and we would joy it best

To see you join the song.

–

Photo by Alexei Maridashvili on Unsplash