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!