And Peter went out and wept…

He has prayed for me,
And how I know his nights
Were given much to prayer.
On struggling priestly heights,
He sought my blessing there.
He has prayed for me,
And often while with us,
Upheld me by his power;
Though I would storm and fuss
And rush and fret and glower.
He has prayed for me,
While I refused to think
That any wicked plan
Would cause my heart to sink
In fear of any man.
He has prayed for me,
Yet I too quickly slept,
When asked to pray with him
In darkness while he wept,
Awaiting capture grim.
He has prayed for me,
And all I did to help
Was lash out once with sword,
A useless little whelp,
While troops removed my Lord.
He has prayed for me,
Who sought the High Priest’s home,
His fate to better view;
But fearing Jews and Rome,
Denied him, ere cock crew.
He has prayed for me,
‘Though I fled in the night
To luxury of tears,
Not knowing how to fight
My frailty, flesh or fears.
He has prayed for me,
And all has come to be.
The tomb now holds my friend.
Has Satan sifted me?
Is infamy my end?
But Jesus prayed for me,
His eager little rock.
Did any prayer get through?
Will I yet tend his flock?
Oh, if I only knew!
LUKE 22: 31, 32, 33, 34