When Peter boast­ed, soon he fell,
Yet was by grace re­stored;
His case should be re­gard­ed well
By all who fear the Lord.

A voice it has, and help­ing hand,
Backsliders to re­call;
And cau­tions those who think they stand,
Lest sud­den­ly they fall.

He said, What­ev­er oth­ers do,
With Je­sus I’ll abide;
Yet soon amidst a mur­der­ous crew
His suf­fer­ing Lord de­nied.

He who had been so bold be­fore,
Now trem­bled like a leaf;
Not on­ly lied, but cursed and swore,
To gain the more be­lief.

While he blas­phemed he heard the cock,
And Je­sus looked in love;
At once, as if by light­ning struck,
His tongue for­bore to move.

Delivered thus from Sa­tan’s snare
He starts, as from a sleep;
His Sav­ior’s look he could not bear,
But hast­ed forth to weep.

But sure the faith­ful cock had crowed
A hun­dred times in vain;
Had not the Lord that look be­stowed,
The mean­ing to ex­plain.

As I, like Peter, vows have made,
Yet act­ed Pe­ter’s part;
So con­science, like the cock, up­braids
My base, un­grate­ful heart.

Lord Je­sus, hear a sin­ner’s cry,
My brok­en peace re­new;
And grant one pi­ty­ing look, that I
May weep with Pe­ter too.