To Peter by night the faithfullest came <br />And said, "We appeal to thee! <br />The life of the Church is in thy life; <br />We pray thee to rise and flee. <br /> <br />"For the tyrant's hand is red with blood, <br />And his arm is heavy with power; <br />Thy head, the head of the Church, will fall, <br />If thou tarry in Rome an hour." <br /> <br />Through the sleeping town Saint Peter passed <br />To the wide Campagna plain; <br />In the starry light of the Alban night <br />He drew free breath again: <br /> <br />When across his path an awful form <br />In luminous glory stood; <br />His thorn-crowned brow, His hands and feet, <br />Were wet with immortal blood. <br /> <br />The godlike sorrow which filled His eyes <br />Seemed changed to a godlike wrath, <br />As they turned on Peter, who cried aloud, <br />And sank to his knees in the path. <br /> <br />"Lord of my life, my love, my soul! <br />Say, what wilt Thou with me?" <br />A voice replied, "I go to Rome <br />To be crucified for thee." <br /> <br />The apostle sprang, all flushed, to his feet, <br />The vision had passed away; <br />The light still lay on the dewy plain, <br />But the sky in the east was gray. <br /> <br />To the city walls Saint Peter turned, <br />And his heart in his breast grew fire; <br />In every vein the hot blood burned <br />With the strength of one high desire. <br /> <br />And sturdily back he marched to his death <br />Of terrible pain and shame; <br />And never a shade of fear again <br />To the stout apostle came.<br /><br />John Hay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-vision-of-saint-peter/
