Sometimes they strew His way,
And His sweet praises sing;
Resounding all the day,
Hosannas to their King.
Then : Crucify!
Is all their breath,
And for His death
They thirst and cry.
Why, what hath my Lord done?
What makes this rage and spite?
He made the lame to run,
He gave the blind their sight.
Sweet injuries!
Yet they at these
Themselves displease,
And 'gainst Him rise.
