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To bring me to his flock again;
He will me help and me relieve,
And will increase my faith also,
If weakly I can but believe,
For from this place I'll never go.
But Peter said how can that be?
How dar'st thou look him in the face?
Such horrid sinners like to thee,
Can have no courage to have grace:
Here none comes in but they that's stout,
And suffer'd have for the good cause;
Like unto thee are keeped out,
For thou hast broken all Moses' laws.
Peter she said I do appeal,
From Moses and from thee also;
With him and you I'll not prevail,
But to my Saviour I will go:
Indeed of old you were right stout,
When you did cut off Malchus' ear;
But after that you went about,
And a poor maid then did you fear.
Wherefore Saint Peter do forbear,
A comforter indeed you're not;
Let me alone I do not fear,
Take home the wissel of your groat:
Was it your own or Paul's good sword
When that your courage was so keen,
You were right stout upon my word,
Then you would fain at fishing been;
For ere the crowing of the cock,
