Inspired by the Gospel's story of Peter denying Jesus three times
“Before the cock crows,
You shall deny me times three.”
How could he say that?
Deny him? Me?
Shall I deny Him now,
And His pow’r from on high,
To say that I shall follow Him,
Should I falter and I die?
He is Master, He is truth,
He is the Way and the Light.
How could I deny such perfection?
How could I turn in Flight?
The meal is done, He takes us aside.
“Watch with me, brothers, for my death is nigh.”
I will not hear it, and I will not believe.
Jesus, He- He cannot- I will not deny!
The torches blinded us and steel rang out!
The man was healed by His Holy Word.
The hour is coming that He said I shall deny,
But before that day I shall die by the sword!
How could they drag Him so,
As a lamb to be killed?
We all watch from a distance,
As they cross all the hills.
Judas- the soulless dog!
Hides from the fruit of his labor!
He counts his thirty silver pieces
After the Sanhedrin’s dirty favor.
I cannot get inside,
Though I admit I don’t prefer.
“You were with Jesus!” a girl cries-
What has gotten into her?
My heart stops as I inspect the scene-
Temple workers, all around!
My faith shall be tested, I know,
But I lie and stamp the ground-
“I don't know the man,
I swear it fully to you,
That you have someone else in mind;
I swear on Israel that it's true!”
I may had dodged death,
But, my honesty, I just disgraced.
“You’re with the Nazorean! I’ve seen him!
You're betrayed by your face!”
“You’re all gone mad!” I shoot back,
“You know me not at all!
I know of Him, perhaps, but, His disciple?
That's just not rational!”
The temple doors open,
And the ground rings with chains.
Jesus - my Master! - is paraded through,
Like a young colt under reins.
One last choice of mine,
I remember it all too well.
A girl grabbed my sleeve angrily,
And forced me to tell.
“You’re with the Galilean,
That man was close to you!
If that much is certain,
Do you call Him King of the Jews?”
One last choice,
I admit I chose askew.
“I say He is but a man,
But not the King of the Jews!”
The cock crowed once,
But I had denied Him three.
Jesus - battered - meets my eyes…
Denied Him… me.
His gaze is broken and torn,
But His duty still to be done.
He looks away from me
To be spat on by everyone.
To think but a week shy,
They processed Him through the town,
Laying palms and crying, “Hosanna!”
And placing their veils on the ground.
Tonight, by my own eyes,
The same faces spit and jeer!
As if Jesus deserved this,
They take Him away from here.
But by my own fear…
I had denied Him times three.
The rock on which to build His Church…
The one who followed from Galilee.