All of My Thorns

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Verse 1
What grace is this – I don’t understand
I can’t forget my part in nailing your hands
I should be the one crucified like a thief
Why should you die for me

Pre-Chorus
Surely this man was the Son of God

Chorus
The thorn in my flesh
Plus my sin and my pride
What else can I do
But give them to you
And all that I face
When I’m hurting inside
Please help me endure
Cause your grace is sufficient for…
All of my thorns

Verse 2
I’ve heard you care and you are kind
But my awful deeds are stuck deep in my mind
You said, “Father, they know not what they do”
Am I forgiven too

Bridge
I didn’t know I was on holy ground
When I forced it upon your brow
I just spit and laughed and knelt half-way down
And mocked you with my sinners crown

Ride on, Ride on in Majesty

Henry Hart Milman (1791–1868) wrote what many consider the best Palm Sunday hymn ever. I like the up and down movement his poetry creates. As we’re riding along on the donkey we see the palms scattered on the ground, we sense the lowliness of Christ knowing what difficulty lies ahead, then we’re taken up to angels watching with great interest, while the Father observes knowing He must soon pour out His wrath on His Son. Then, in the last verse, we’re brought down to complete the ride to the cross where Jesus bows his head in death, only to rise again to reign victorious.

Ride on, ride on in majesty!
Hark, all the tribes hosanna cry,
Thy 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 triumph 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 wond’ring 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,
Awaits 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.

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