Lyrics
The dust was stirring on the road that leads through the eastern gate
A humble king came riding on beneath the hand of fate
The children threw their garments down, the palms began to swing
A thousand voices lifted up to hail the coming king
They'd seen the blind man find his sight, they'd seen the dead arise
And hope was burning like a flame within their weary eyes
But oh, how fast the wind can change across the desert sand
How quick the heart of man forgets the touch of God's own hand
The voices shouting"Hosanna!", when the Sunday sun was high
Were the same ones standing in the court screaming"Crucify!" by Friday morn
The silver jingled in a bag, the kiss was cold and grim
And those who broke the bread with him had turned their backs on him
Before the Roman governor, the Savior stood alone
While they called for a murderer and claimed him as their own"His blood be on our children's heads!", the angry voices roared
The same hands that had praised him now were reaching for a sword
Yes, how fast the tide can turn against the king of grace
How quick a shout of welcome turns to spitting in his face
The voices shouted"Hosanna!", when the Sunday sun was high
Turned to a roar of"Barabbas!" and a scream of"Crucify!" by Friday morn
I look into the mirror and I wonder where I stand
Am I holding up a palm branch or a hammer in my hand
It's easy in the sunshine to sing of victory
But was I in that angry mob that sent him to the tree
Yes, how fast the wind can change across the desert sand
Lord, keep my heart from wandering in this dry and weary land
Don't let me cry"Hosanna!", just because the sun is high
Only to leave you lonely when the world cries"Crucify!"