Hollow Hosannas

 


Hosanna spills like petals in the street,

Soft praises laid where dusty sandals fall;

We crown the air with songs that sound so sweet,

Yet scarcely know the King we seem to call.


Our branches wave, but roots run cold and deep,

Unstirred by truths His quiet eyes proclaim;

We shout aloud, while inward shadows keep

A throne untouched, unyielded to His name.


He rides in peace upon the lowly way,

No sword, no throne that satisfies our sight;

We long for crowns of gold and grand display,

But miss the cross concealed in gentle light.


So still we sing, yet hearts remain apart,

Palm leaves in hand, but thorns within the heart.


© 29-03-2026 Pastor Emmanuel Serto


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