Adown the ringing street he came,
The Lord of all the years.
A thousand voices of acclaim
Were ringing in his ears.
Silent was he who knew his way
Of mingled joy and loss
Began where Bartimaeus lay,
And ended at a cross.
And ever it has been as then.
The path of triumph trod
Amid the loud acclaim of men,
Beneath the smile of God,
Begins where need holds forth its hands,
And pleads with weary eyes,
And ends where, grim and silent, stands
The Hill of Sacrifice.