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Thou mightest then have turned wrath,
To mercy then, and mercy got,
But now the Lord is very loath,
And all thy cries not worth a jot.
Ah Peter then what shall I do,
He will not hear me, as I fear,
Shall I despair of mercy too,
No, no, I'll trust in mercy dear,
And if I perish, here I'll stay,
And never go from heaven bright,
I'll ever hope and always pray,
Until I get my Saviour's sight.
I think indeed now you are right,
If ye had faith ye would win in;
Importune then with all your might,
Faith is the feet where with ye come,
It is the hands will hold him fast:
But weak faith never may presume,
'Twill let you sink, and be aghast,
Strongly believe, or you're undone.
But good St Peter let me be.
Had you such faith? did it abound
When you did walk upon the sea,
Were you not likely to be drown'd?
Had not your Saviour helped thee,
Who came and took thee by the hand,
So can my Lord do unto me,
And bring me to the promis'd land.
Is my faith weak? yet he is still
The same, and ever shall remain;
His mercies last, and his good-will

To bring me to his flock again;