He sat at the fire among them,
His Lord and Master near,
And strongly denied that he knew Him
And cursed and swore in fear.
How his heart must have broken
When he heard the cock’s third cry,
And when his Lord turned to him
With naught but a sad sigh.
Teach me, Simon Peter,
How pained was that look,
So that I may feel the sorrow
Of the Lord that I forsook.
Let me feel your rending guilt,
And let me know the shame
That I may never fear and thus
Foolishly deny His name.
Teach me, Simon Peter,
That every time I sin,
A rooster crows in my life,
And the Lord looks hurt again.
— Sarah Green
