From Bethany, the Mas­ter
Comes down Mt. Ol­ive’s slope,
And all the world is sing­ing,
A glad new song of hope;
Cry out, O state­ly ce­dars,
Along the rug­ged way!
Ye vine­yards, shout ho­san­na,
To greet this hap­py day!

The King of Love, in tri­umph
Rides through the ci­ty’s gate;
Rejected, scorned—yet Vic­tor,
The Con­quer­or of hate;
O wave your green palm branch­es!
Exalt His match­less worth!
This King of Love shall con­quer
The ­ of the earth.

Not of this world His kin­gdom;
His pow­er is from above;
His realm is of the spi­rit,
His scep­ter—Truth and Love;
He calls us to His ser­vice,
His ban­ner is un­furled;
With Thee we march, O Mas­ter,
To ov­er­come the world.