Ride on, ride on in majesty! Hark, all the tribes 'Hosanna!' cry; Thine humble beast pursues his road With palms and scattered garments strowed.

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Ride on, ride on in majesty! Hark, all the tribes 'Hosanna!' cry; Thine 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 triumphs 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 wondering 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, Expects 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. Henry Hart Milman( )