O Peter, wherefore didst thou doubt? <br />Indeed the spray flew fast about, <br />But he was there whose walking foot <br />Could make the wandering hills take root; <br />And he had said, 'Come down to me,' <br />Else hadst thou not set foot on sea! <br />Christ did not call thee to thy grave! <br />Was it the boat that made thee brave? <br /> <br />'Easy for thee who wast not there <br />To think thou more than I couldst dare! <br />It hardly fits thee though to mock <br />Scared as thou wast that railway shock! <br />Who saidst this morn, 'Wife, we must go- <br />The plague will soon be here, I know!' <br />Who, when thy child slept-not to death- <br />Saidst, 'Life is now not worth a breath!'' <br /> <br />Saint Peter, thou rebukest well! <br />It needs no tempest me to quell, <br />Not even a spent lash of its spray! <br />Things far too little to affray <br />Will wake the doubt that's worst of all- <br />Is there a God to hear me call? <br />But if he be, I never think <br />That he will hear and let me sink! <br /> <br />Lord of my little faith, my Lord, <br />Help me to fear nor fire nor sword; <br />Let not the cross itself appall <br />Which bore thee, Life and Lord of all; <br />Let reeling brain nor fainting heart <br />Wipe out the soreness that thou art; <br />Dwell farther in than doubt can go, <br />And make <br />I hope <br />become <br />I know <br />. <br />Then, sure, if thou should please to say, <br />'Come to my side,' some stormy way, <br />My feet, atoning to thy will, <br />Shall, heaved and tossed, walk toward thee still; <br />No heart of lead shall sink me where <br />Prudence lies crowned with cold despair, <br />But I shall reach and clasp thy hand, <br />And on the sea forget the land!<br /><br />George MacDonald<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/saint-peter-3/
