When the King came
He was so like His own, they knew Him not;
And cast in ways of poverty His lot.
There was no blazoned heraldry of fame
When the King came.
When the King died
Not many wept. The memory of His years
Did not bring many blossoms dewed with tears
Unto the new tomb in the mountainside,
When the King died.
When the King rose
’Twas not to go to some far distant land,
Nor yet to dwell within a palace grand,
’Twas to the palace of the hearts of men
He rose again.