1 Sunday was the day when he came to Jerusalem, Christ on a donkey, a strange sort of king! But crowds came to meet him, with branches to greet him and nobody was going to stop the children sing. 2 Monday he went among the crowds in the temple, found it full of cattle as the cash flowed free; he stood and faced them, made a whip and chased them: 'My Father's house is for prayer' said he. 3 Tuesday he was welcomed by Martha at Bethany; Mary anointed him with rich perfume: some were there who grumbled, soon they were humbled this day pointed to his cross and tomb. 4 Wednesday, a last chance of teaching in the city, warning of danger and judgement day; stones would be crumbling, Jerusalem tumbling, his words would never pass away. 5 Thursday in the upper room, twelve sitting with him, master is a servant and washes their feet; bread he is breaking, and the cup is taking 'My blood, my body drink, and eat!' 6 Friday he's a prisoner, dragged before the governor; a travesty of justice he's nailed to the wood: there he was crucified for our sins he died: this is the Friday that we call Good. 7 Saturday's the Sabbath, day of rest and quietness; his body lies in the dark, alone: every enemy and friend thinks this is the end; guarded is his grave, sealed with a stone. 8 Sunday morning early, first day in the week, first day of everything can it be true? Death has lost control here Hallelujahs everywhere; Christ is alive all the world is new!