Peter Weeping.

O strong in purpose—frail in power,1
Where now the pledge so lately given ?2
Coward—to creatures of an hour ;3
Bold to the challenged bolts of heaven !4
Shall that fierce eye e’er pour the stream5
Of heart-wrung tears before its God ?6
Thus did the rock in Horeb seem,7
One moment ere it felt the rod.8
But Jesus turns : —mysterious drops9
Before that kindly glance flow fast ;10
So melt the snows from mountain tops,11
When the dark wintry hour is past.12
What might it be that glance could
paint ?
Did one deep-touching impress blend14
The more than sage—the more than
The more than sympathizing friend ?16
Was it, that lightning thought retraced17
Some hallow’d hour beneath the moon ?18
Or walk, or converse high, that graced19
The temple’s column’d shade at noon ?20
Say, did that face to memory’s eye,21
With gleams of Tabor’s glory shine ?22
Or did the dews of agony23
Still rest upon that brow divine ?24
I know not : —but I know a will25
That, Lord ! might frail as Peter’s be !26
A heart that had denied thee still,27
E’en now—without a look from Thee ! ”28