SIMON SURNAMED PETER
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ime that has lifted you over them all--O'er John and o'er Paul;Writ you in capitals, made you the chiefWord on the leaf--How did you, Peter, when ne'er on His breastYou leaned and were blest--And none except Judas and you broke the faithTo the day of His death,--You, Peter, the fisherman, worthy of blame,Arise to this fame? 'Twas you in the garden who fell into sleepAnd the watch failed to keep,When Jesus was praying and pressed with the weightOf the oncoming fate.'Twas you in the court of the palace who warmedYour hands as you stormedAt the damsel, denying Him thrice, when she cried:"He walked at his side!"You, Peter, a wave, a star among clouds, a reed in the wind,A guide of the blind,Both smiter and flyer, but human alway, I protest,Beyond all the rest. When at night by the boat on the sea He appearedDid you wait till he neared?You leaped in the water, not dreading the worstIn your joy to be firstTo greet Him and tell Him of all that had passedSince you saw Him the last.You had slept while He watched, but fierce were you, fierce and awakeWhen they sought Him to take,And cursing, no doubt, as you smote off, as one of the least,The ear of the priest.Then Andrew and all of them fled, but you followed Him,hoping for strengthTo save him at lengthTill you lied to the damsel, oh penitent Peter, and crept,Into hiding and wept. Oh well! But he asked all the twelve, "Who am I?"And who made reply?As you leaped in the sea, so you spoke as you smote with the sword;"Thou art Christ, even Lord!"John leaned on His breast, but he asked you, your strength to foresee,"Nay, lovest thou me?"Thrice over, as thrice you denied Him, and chose you to leadHis sheep and to feed;And gave you, He said, the keys of the den and the foldTo have and to hold.You were a poor jailer, oh Peter, the dreamer, who sawThe death of the lawIn the dream of the vessel that held all the four-footed beasts,Unclean for the priests;And heard in the vision a trumpet that all men are worthThe peace of the earthAnd rapture of heaven hereafter,--oh Peter, what powerWas yours in that hour:You warder and jailer and sealer of fates and decrees,To use the big keysWith which to reveal and fling wide all the soul and the schemeOf the Galilee dream,When you flashed in a trice, as later you smote with the sword:"Thou art Christ, even Lord!" We men, Simon Peter, we men also give you the crownO'er Paul and o'er John.We write you in capitals, make you the chiefWord on the leaf.We know you as one of our flesh, and 'tis wellYou are warder of hell,And heaven's gatekeeper forever to bind and to loose--Keep the keys if you choose.Not rock of you, fire of you make you sublimeIn the annals of time.You were called by Him, Peter, a rock, but we give you the nameOf Peter the Flame.For you struck a spark, as the spark from the shockOf steel upon rock.The rock has his use but the flame gives the lightIn the way in the night:--Oh Peter, the dreamer, impetuous, human, divine,Gnarled branch of the vine!
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